“All the Mohuns are dark,” said Dolores, “and all Aunt Lily’s children, except Wilfred; and is not your Phyllis of that colour?”
“Phyllis’s hair is not red, but dark auburn,” said Bernard, in a tone like offence.
“I never saw Phyllis,” said dark-browed Dolores, “but I have heard the aunts talk over the source of the—the fair variety, and trace it to the Merrifields. Uncle Jasper is brown, and so is Bessie; but Susan is, to put it politely, just a golden tabby, and David’s baby promises to be, to her great delight, as she says he will be a real Merrifield. So much for family feeling!”
“Sister, Sister!” came in a bright tone, “may I go with Pearl and get a stick for Ben? He wants something to play with! He is eating his perch.”
Ben, it appeared, was the pink cockatoo, who was biting his perch with his hooked beak. The children had finished their meal, and consent was given. “Only, Lena, come here,” said Angela, fastening a silk handkerchief round her neck, and adding, “Don’t let Lena go on the dew, Pearl; she is not used to early English autumn, I must get her a pair of thicker boots.”
“What is her name?” asked Agatha, catching the sound.
“Magdalen Susanna. Her father made a point of it, instead of his wife’s name, which, I think, was Caroline.”
“I don’t think I ever knew a Magdalen except my own elder sister,” said Agatha, “and Susanna! Did you say Miss Merrifield had a sister Susan?”
“An excellent, sober-sided, dear old Susan! Yes, Susanna was their mother’s name,” said Dolores “and now that you have put it into my head, little Lena, when she is animated, puts me more in mind of Bessie than even of Wilfred, though the colouring is different. Why?”
“Did you never hear,” said Agatha, “that there was one of the brothers who was a bad lot, and ran away. My sister says Wilfred is like him. I believe,” she added, “that he was her romance!”