A College Girl | Page 2

one bound, as it seemed, she reached the scene of the disaster, was a selection of small white teeth scattered over the oil-clothed floor. Henceforth for years Harry pursued his way minus front teeth, and the nursery legend darkly hinted that so injured had been the gums by his fall that no second supply could be expected. Harry avowed a sincere aspiration that this should be the case. "I can eat as much without them," he declared, "and when I grow up I'll have them false, and be an explorer, and scare savages like the man in Rider Haggard," so that teeth, or no teeth, would appear to hold the secret of his destiny.
Russell had adenoids, and snored. His peculiarities included a faculty for breaking his bones, at frequent and inconvenient occasions, an insatiable curiosity about matters with which he had no concern, and a most engaging and delusive silkiness of manner. "Gentleman Russell," a title bestowed by his elders, had an irritating effect on an elder brother conscious of being condemned by the contrast, and when quoted downstairs brought an unfailing echo of thumps in the seclusion of the playroom.
Tim played on his privileges as "littlest," and his mother's barely concealed partiality, and was as irritating to his elders as a small person can be, who is always present when he is not wanted, absent when he is, in peace adopts the airs of a conqueror, and in warfare promptly cries, and collapses into a curly-headed baby boy, whom the authorities declare it is "cr-uel" to bully!
For the rest, the house was of the high and narrow order common to town terraces, inconveniently crowded by its many inmates, and viewed from without, of a dark and grimy appearance.
Sandon Terrace had no boast to make either from an architectural or a luxurious point of view, and was so obviously inferior to its neighbour, Napier Terrace, that it was lacerating to the Garnett pride to feel that their sworn friends the Vernons were so much better domiciled than themselves. Napier Terrace had a strip of garden between itself and the rough outer world; big gateways stood at either end, and what Vi Vernon grandiloquently spoke of as "a carriage sweep" curved broadly between. Divided accurately among the houses in the terrace, the space of ground apportioned to each was limited to a few square yards, but the Vernons were chronically superior on the subject of "the grounds," and in springtime when three hawthorns, a lilac, and one spindly laburnum-tree struggled into bloom, their airs were beyond endurance.
The Vernons had also a second claim to superiority over the Garnetts, inasmuch as they were the proud possessors of an elder brother, a remote and learned person who gained scholarships, and was going to be Prime Minister when he was grown up. Dan at eighteen, coaching with a tutor preparatory to going up to Cambridge, was removed by continents of superiority from day-school juniors. Occasionally in their disguise of the deadly jealousy which in truth consumed them, the Garnett family endeavoured to make light of the personality of this envied person. To begin with, his name! "Dan" was well enough. "Dan" sounded a boy-like boy, a manly man; of a "Dan" much might be expected in the way of sport and mischief, but--oh, my goodness--Daniel! The Garnetts discussed the cognomen over the play-room fire.
"It must be so embarrassing to have a Bible name!" Lavender opined. "Think of church! When they read about me I should be covered with confusion, and imagine that every one was staring at our pew!"
Clemence stared thoughtfully into space. "I, Clemence, take thee Daniel," she recited slowly, and shuddered. "No--really, I couldn't!"
"He wouldn't have you!" the three boys piped; even Tim, who plainly was talking of matters he could not understand, added his note to the chorus, but Darsie cocked her little head, and added eagerly--
"Couldn't you, really? What could you, do you think?"
Clemence stared again, more rapt than ever.
"Lancelot, perhaps," she opined, "or Sigismund. Everard's nice too, or Ronald or Guy--"
"Bah! Sugary. I couldn't! Daniel is ugly," Darsie admitted, "but it's strong. Dan Vernon will fight lions like the Bible one; they'll roar about him, and his enemies will cast him in, but they'll not manage to kill him. He'll trample them under foot, and leave them behind, like milestones on the road." Darsie was nothing if not inaccurate, but in the bosom of one's own family romantic flights are not allowed to atone for discrepancies, and the elder sister was quick to correct.
"Daniel didn't fight the lions! What's the use of being high falutin' and making similes that aren't correct?"
"Dear Clemence, you are so literal!" Darsie tilted her head with an air of superiority which reduced the elder to silence, the while she cogitated painfully why such a