twinkled all over. A handsome boy, with red hair and dark blue
eyes; but, oh, such a pity! his name is Obadiah, for I heard the
other call him so. How can intelligent people call a boy Obadiah?"

She sewed for some minutes in silence, her needle darting in and
out with thoughtful regularity, then went on.

"All the family seem to have strange names. The other boy is
called Ferguson, and one girl is Toots, and another is Chucky. I
detest nicknames; but these people all seemed so jolly, and on
such good terms with each other, that I felt a sort of warming to
them. The girl named Toots tumbled out of the wagon, and the
others all laughed, and she laughed, too. She dropped everything
she was carrying, and she was carrying a great deal,--a butterfly-
net, and a mouse-trap, and three books, and a bandbox,--and
everybody seemed to think that the best joke of all. One called
her medicine dropper, and another drop-cake, and another dropped
egg, and so on; and away they all went into the house, laughing
and shouting and tumbling over each other. Such a jolly family.
Mamma!"

"Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Grahame, very quietly, but without
looking up.

"Nothing!" said Hildegarde. "You are an angel, that is all."

Mrs. Grahame sighed, and thought, as Hildegarde had been thinking,
how good it would be to have many children, like a crown of
sunbeams, about her; and thought of a little grave in Greenwood,
where her only boy lay.