“I am so sorry for poor, dear uncle, though we never saw him,” said Martin, as soon as we were alone.
“I am more sorry for our father, Martin. I fear that this fresh stroke of misfortune, coming so soon after our dear mother’s death, will utterly destroy his already weak health.”
“Nay, Claud, we boys must be his support. Then, you know, it must be consoling even to him to find our new aunt so kind and thoughtful.”
“New aunt!” I repeated; then, looking cautiously round, and first listening to hear if footsteps were at hand, I said, in a whisper, “Do you know, Martin, I don’t like that woman.”
“Don’t you, though,” he replied, with a look of astonishment. “But why?”
“Well, I don’t know, but I don’t. You remember the lines poor mother used to repeat to us——
“‘I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,
The reason why, I cannot tell;
But this I do know, very well,
I do not like thee, Doctor Fell.’”