How parents and doctors in these days would have
shuddered at her neck and arms, bare, not only in the evening, but
by day! When she was a little younger she could so shrink up from
her clothes that Griff, or little Martyn, in a mischievous mood,
would put things down her back, to reappear below her petticoats.
Once it was a dead wasp, which descended harmlessly the length of
her spine! She was a good-humoured, affectionate, dear sister, my
valued companion, submitting patiently to be eclipsed when Clarence
was present, and everything to me in his absence. Sturdy little
Martyn too, was held by us to be the most promising of small boys.
He was a likeness of Clarence, only stouter, hardier, and without
the delicate, girlish, wistful look; imitating Griff in everything,
and rather a heavy handful to Emily and me when left to our care,
though we were all the more proud of his high spirit, and were fast
becoming a mutual admiration society.
What then were our feelings when Griff, always fearless, dashed to
the rescue of a boy under whom the ice had broken in St. James'
Park, and held him up till assistance came? Martyn, who was with
him, was sent home to fetch dry clothes and reassure my mother,
which he did by dashing upstairs, shouting, 'Where's mamma? Here's
Griff been into the water and pulled out a boy, and they don't know
if he is drowned; but he looks--oh!'
Even after my mother had elicited that Martyn's HE meant the boy,
and not Griff, she could not rest without herself going to see that
our eldest was unhurt, greet him, and bring him home.
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