Page:The life and letters of Sir John Henniker Heaton bt. (IA lifelettersofsi00port).pdf/164

 afternoon. Mercy was the first to make friends with H. H., her gentle sympathetic nature touched by any suffering. She would talk to him in her wise, gentle way for hours, and her clever, poetical thoughts were a constant source of marvel and delight to H. H.

Shortly afterwards Mercy went down to the country, and her little sister Mary came upon the scene. Mary at this time was about seven years old; a little flying figure, in a blue cotton frock under an enormous mushroom hat, sunburnt little face and hands, and the cleverest, wittiest, most mischievous and adorable little mite that ever came out of a fairy tale. She had a band of faithful followers, nearly all older and bigger than herself, whom she ruled with a rod of iron. Mary chose the game and Mary chose the part she would play and Mary awarded all the prizes and punishments. A born leader, she instantly recognized a kindred spirit in H. H. and they became fast friends.

H. H. had been ordered complete rest and quiet, but Mary cared for none of these things. When he appeared in the Square, she would fling herself upon him like a small whirlwind, shout down his ear, and seizing his walking stick—for he was still very lame—dance away with it to the other end of the Square looking like an imp of mischief. She had a most astonishing vocabulary for her years, and would send H. H. off into roars of laughter by her quaint phraseology. "I would tell you and welcome, but you are not to be trusted," she would reprove him when he begged to be allowed to share her confidence. She was a little lady who fully realized her own worth. "Good-bye," she said one evening, throwing her arms round H. H.; "you won't see me again, as I'm going