Effie stooped once more to kiss and caress the chrysanthemums, then she hurried away, because she had heard her brother’s voice calling,—
“Effie, Effie, Effie!”
“Coming, Leonard—coming—coming—coming!” was Effie’s reply, as she ran round through the shrubbery to the terraced lawn behind.
“Come and see me jump from winter into spring,” cried Leonard, making a bound like a young antelope right off the lowest terrace, still white and crisp with frost, to the lawn where the grass was wet with dew, and green.
“Oh, Leonardie, Leonardie!” said Effie, pouting with her rosy lips, “why so cruel as to call me away from my flowers to see you jump?”
“You couldn’t do it, Effet,” said Leonard, nodding his head.
“Oh, I could! You see now.”
Next moment both were at it, running up and running down, leaping from winter into spring, bounding up from sunshine into shade, and keeping up the merry game till the cheeks of each were as red as roses, and their eyes as bright as drops of dew.
As handsome a boy was Leonard at the age of ten as one could wish to see. Twins the two were, though he was the taller, as became his sex, and I do not think they had been one hour parted since the bells of the village church were set ringing to announce the double birth.
Leonard threw himself down to rest on the frosty grass, and Effie stood laughingly looking down at him.