Three generations

CHAPTER V
It was while Grange was only our summer sea-bathing
quarters, and we retired for the winter to the house in
Cupar, that the lastborn left us. Poor little Eezie, as
we called her in our Scotch tongue. She only lived
to attain her two years, but her memory long lingered
among us in the light of a singularly bright, alert, and
keenly sensitive child, as conspicuous for her quick-
ness and readiness as I, who was two years her senior,
was markedly deficient in these qualities. My father
and she had one special confidence between them.
When he returned from his weekly visit to his coal-
works, he never omitted an understood ceremony.
As he drove up in his gig and alighted on the pave-
ment beneath the nursery window, he gave a peculiar
whistle, which Eezie, if awake, never failed to hear,
and she went off like a shot, disdainful of guidance
and assistance. She could only descend the stairs
by walking backwards and holding on by each step
in her progress, which was marvellously rapid. The
front-door was opened for her, and she was out on
the pavement by my father's side, when the goal was
reached and the prize won. This was his handing
to her his large whip, which stretched far down to
her feet and rose high above her head. It was with
difficulty that the little hands grasped the whip, but
she was its faithful custodian till the owner entered
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