XIVWalking to church a certain Sundaymorning, I had little Miles atmy side and his sister, in advance of us and at Mrs. Grose’s,well in sight. It was a crisp, clear day, the first of its orderfor some time; the night had brought a touch of frost, and theautumn air, bright and sharp, madethe church bells almost gay. Itwas an odd accident of thought that I should have happened at sucha moment to be particularly and very gratefully struck with theobedience of my little charges. Why did they never resent myinexorable, my perpetual society? Something or other had broughtnearer home to me that I had all but pinned the boy to my shawl andthat, in the way our companions were marshaled before me, I mighthave appeared to provide against some danger of rebellion. I waslike a gaoler with an eye to pos
