"There you are again," said Cornelius—"star-gazing as usual! You'll be spraining your other ankle presently!"
"I had forgotten all about my ankle, Corney dear," returned Hester, softened by her sorrowful sympathy; "but I will be careful."
"You had better. Well, I think between us we had the worth of our shilling! Did you ever see such a ridiculous old bloke!"
"I wish you would not use that word, Corney," said Hester, letting her displeasure fall on the word, where she knew the feeling was entrenched beyond assault.
"What's the matter with the word? It is the most respectable old Anglo-Saxon."
Hester said no more, but heaved an inward sigh. Of what consequence were the words her brother used, so long as he recognized no dignity in life, never set himself to be! Why should any one be taught to behave like a gentleman, so long as he is no gentleman?
Cornelius burst out laughing.
"To think of those muffs going through the river—sliding along the bottom, and spreading out their feelers above the water, like two rearing lobsters! And the angels waiting for them on the bank like laundresses with their clean shirts! Ha! ha! ha!"
"They seemed to me," answered Hester, "very much like the men, and angels too, in that old edition of the Pilgrim papa thinks so much of. I couldn't for my part, absurd as they were, help feeling a certain pathos in the figures and faces."
"That came of the fine interpretation the old—hm!—codger gave of their actions and movements!"