"No fear, sister; no fear;--I shall take the best of care of the old phaeton. The quaint old arms on the panel, always remind me who it was that first rode in it."
"I am glad you have that memory, brother Pierre."
"And who it was that next rode in it."
"Bless you!--God bless you, my dear son!--always think of him and you can never err; yes, always think of your dear perfect father, Pierre."
"Well, kiss me now, dear sister, for I must go."
"There; this is my cheek, and the other is Lucy's; though now that I look at them both, I think that hers is getting to be the most blooming; sweeter dews fall on that one, I suppose."
Pierre laughed, and ran out of the room, for old Christopher was getting impatient. His mother went to the window and stood there.
"A noble boy, and docile"--she mur
