Mildred sighed. She called Lucy to her and held her before her, pushing the hair from her brow as she looked attentively into her face. It was not a beautiful or a handsome face; but it was fair and gentle, the features pale, the eyes dark brown, with a sweet, sad, earnest expression: just such a face as Mildred's.
"Do you like your cousins, Charlotte and Sophia, Lucy?" asked Mildred.
"I like Travice best," was the little lady's unblushing answer. "Charlotte and Sophy tease me; they are not kind; but Travice won't let them tease me when he is there. He is a big boy, but he plays with me; and he says he loves me better than he does them."
"I really believe he does," said Peter, amused at the answer. "Travice is just like his father, as this child is like you—the same open, generous, noble boy that William himself was. When I see Travice playing with Lucy, I could fancy it was you and William over again—as I used to see you play in the old days."
"Heaven grant that the ending of it may not be as mine was!" was the inward prayer that went up from Mildred's heart.
"Travice is in the college school, I suppose, Peter?"
"Oh, yes. With a private evening tutor at home. The girls have a resident governess. William spares no money on their education."
"Would it not be a nice thing for Lucy if she could go daily and share their lessons?"
"Hush, Mildred! Treason!" exclaimed Peter, while Mrs. Peter Arkell burst into a laugh, her husband's manner was so quaint. "I have reason to know that William was hardy enough to say something of the same sort to his wife, and he got his answer. I and my wife, between us, teach Lucy. It is better so; for the child could not be spared from her mother. You don't know the use she is of, already."
"I am of use to mamma too, I am!" broke in a bold baby voice at Mildred's side.