An elegant phaeton, drawn by a pair of superb black horses, drew up close to the coupe, and Mrs. Andrews and her only brother, Mr. Grey Chilton, leaned forward and spoke to the children; while Mr. Chilton, who was driving, teased Hattie by touching her head and shoulders with his whip.
"Uncle Grey, I think the bays are the handsomest."
"Which proves you utterly incapable of judging horseflesh; for these are the finest horses in the city. I presume this is Miss Earl, though nobody seems polite enough to introduce us."
He raised his hat slightly, bowed, and drove on.
"Is this the first time you have met my uncle?" asked Felix.
"Yes. Does he live in the city?"
"Why! he lives with us! Haven't you seen him about the house? You must have heard him romping around with Hattie; for they make noise enough to call in the police. I think my uncle Grey is the handsomest man I ever saw, except Edwin Booth, when he plays 'Hamlet.' What do you say?"
"As I had barely a glimpse of your uncle, I formed no opinion. Felix, button your coat and draw your shawl over your shoulders; it is getting cold."
When they reached home the children begged for some music, and placing her hat on a chair, Edna sat down before the piano, and played and sang; while Felix stood leaning on his crutches, gazing earnestly into the face of his teacher.
The song was Longfellow's "Rainy Day," and when she concluded it, the cripple laid his thin hand on hers and said: