"My poor lame darling!" murmured Shirley, in her softest voice, aiding him.
"Whether do you like me or Mr. Sam Wynne best, Shirley?" inquired the boy, as she settled him in an arm-chair.
"O Harry, Sam Wynne is my aversion; you are my pet."
"Me or Mr. Malone?"
"You again, a thousand times."
"Yet they are great whiskered fellows, six feet high each."
"Whereas, as long as you live, Harry, you will never be anything more than a little pale lameter."
"Yes, I know."
"You need not be sorrowful. Have I not often told you who was almost as little, as pale, as suffering as you, and yet potent as a giant and brave as a lion?"
"Admiral Horatio?"