Nellie and Bessie were her two little daughters, aged respectively eleven and nine. Mr. Norris was very proud and fond of them both, and his stern face softened at the mention of their names.
"How fast they do grow!" he exclaimed. "Why, they'll be women almost directly. Nellie is like her father, but I don't think Bessie takes after either you or your husband, Mary!"
"No," Mrs. Maple answered; then she added, in a lower tone, "but I know who she is like, though!"
"Who's that?" enquired the old man with a sharp glance at his daughter.
"Why, David, to be sure! Every one remarks the likeness! She has his soft brown eyes, and his winning manner, and her very voice seems to have an echo of his!"
Mr. Norris was silent, his eyes fixed on the flames which leaped and danced on the hearth. His daughter plucked up her courage and continued:
"Have you forgotten what day it is, father? The third of March! David's birthday! I wonder where he is now! I would give a great deal to know! An only son, and brother, and to think we have neither seen nor heard of him for fifteen years!"
"That is his fault, Mary!"
"I don't know about that! You were hard on him, father, and told him never to show his face at home again, and he took you at your word!"
"It is his pride that has kept him silent!" the old man exclaimed angrily. "It is to be hoped that your Bessie does not take after him in disposition as well as in appearance, or you'll have trouble with her yet!"