What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. At this moment, his quick ears detected the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. Every old country church is beautiful, but Willesden is the most beautiful country church we know; and in Mrs.
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