"Do they live in Martindale?" asked Hope, eager to add to her list of acquaintances any whom the Campbells loved.
"No, their home is in Chicago now. That is a photograph of the children." She pointed to a group picture on the fireplace mantel, and the girls clustered about it with inquisitive eyes.
"What a sad-faced child the smaller one is," observed Faith. "How old is she?"
"Six or seven weeks younger than Peace, I believe. She was born on Valentine Day."
"How lovely!" Peace cried joyfully. "But I'd like it better if it was the boy who was almost my age. He looks the nicest of the bunch. The big girl is homely—"
"Peace!"
"Well, it ain't her fault, I know, and I wouldn't mind how homely she was if she looked sweet, but she doesn't. She looks 'sif she thought she owned the earth and I never did like a darnimeering person. Now Tom—his name is Tom, isn't it?"
"No, dear, it is Henderson. Henderson Meadows."
"Oh! Why, I was sure it was Tom; he has such a Tom-ish look—"
A shout of derision interrupted her, but she stoutly declared, "Well, he has! Boys named Tom are always nice—all I ever knew. I'm sorry his name is Henderson. It doesn't sound a bit like him."