"Come here, Clement," said Mrs. Colville to a little boy in the distance; "there, don't you see, Mary, how differently his things set?"
Mary saw well enough, and saw too that it was figure and not clothes that made such a difference between the two boys, but she did not like to wound her sister's maternal vanity by saying so.
"Does your French bonne make your clothes, dear?" Mrs. Colville inquired of Humphrey.
"Not mine," he answered—"only Miles's. Mine," he added with great pride, "come from a London tailor's."
"Do you happen to remember his name?"
"Swears and Wells," answered Humphrey; "I went there once to see 'Gulliver.' I advise you to go and see him when you are in London. You can't think how jolly he is!"
"I suppose, of course, you don't remember the direction?" Of course Humphrey didn't.
"Stop a bit," he said, all of a sudden. "I've seen the direction written somewhere quite lately. Where could I have seen it? Why, since I've been in this room I've read it."
"Impossible, my dear child," said Mrs. Colville, laughing.
"But I have really," getting up from his chair in his excitement; "I've seen the number and the name of the street written somewhere in this drawing-room."