girl with high-piled brown hair and eager, smiling eyes.
"It looks like Polly," Janet thought, "but it could not really be a picture of her."
She turned it over and found the single name engraved on the back, "Cicely, æt. 17."
"Martin," she cried in the sudden inspiration of discovery, "Martin, come here quickly and tell me what is your whole name."
The little boy came out from a far corner where he had been examining dusty treasures on his own account and stood for a minute just where a beam of slanting sunlight dropped through the tiny window under the roof.
"Martin Hallowell Crawford," he said.
She would always remember just how he looked, standing there with the sunshine on his yellow mop of curly hair, his chubby face smiling and then whitening suddenly as they both heard a sound behind them. She turned to see Anthony Crawford standing upon the stair.
