“I will ask Mrs. Long when I get home,” said Henry. “She has always lived at C———, and is great for remembering dates. Let's see; what time do you think it was?”
“Mrs. Tyrrell and I concluded it must have been between. 1873 and 1877,” said Jessie; adding slyly, “for she was married in 1877. Mrs. Tyrrell, did you bring that old photograph with you? It might amuse them to look at it.”
Nellie produced a small picture, and, adjusting their spectacles and eye-glasses, they all came forward to see it. A group of six young people was represented, all in the very heyday of youth. The spectators were silent, looking first at the picture, and then at each other.
“Can it be,” said Frank, “that these were ever our pictures? I hope, Mrs. Tyrrell, the originals had the forethought to put the names on the back, that we may be able to identify them.”
“No,” said she, “we must guess as best we can. First, who is that?” pointing to one of the figures.
“That must be Mrs. Hyde, for she is taller than the others,” suggested Grandma Fellows.
“By the same token, that must be Mrs. Tyrrell, for she is shorter,” said Jessie; “though, but for that, I don't see how we could have told them apart.”
“How oddly they did dress in those days!” said Mary.
“Who can that be?” asked Frank, pointing to the finest-looking of the three young men. “If that is one of us, there was more choice in our looks than there is now,—eh, Townsley?”
“No doubt,” said George, “fifty years ago somebody's eye scanned those features with a very keen sense of proprietorship. What a queer feeling it would have given those young things to have anticipated that we should ever puzzle over their identities in this way!”