THE WINDOW

She clenched her fist. She stamped. And Mr.
Bankes felt aged and saddened and somehow put
into the wrong by her about his friendship. He
must have dried and shrunk.

The Ramsays were not rich, and it was a
wonder how they managed to contrive it all.
Eight children! To feed eight children on
philosophy! Here was another of them. Jasper
this time, strolling past, to have a shot at a bird,
he said, nonchalantly, swinging Lily's hand like a
pump-handle as he passed, which caused Mr.
Bankes to say, bitterly, how she was a favourite.
There was education now to be considered (true,
Mrs. Ramsay had something of her own perhaps)
let alone the daily wear and tear of shoes and
stockings which those " great fellows ", all well
grown, angular, ruthless youngsters, must require.
As for being sure which was which, or in what
order they came, that was beyond him. He called
them privately after the Kings and Queens of
England; Cam the Wicked, James the Ruthless,
Andrew the Just, Prue the Fair—for Prue would
have beauty, he thought, how could she help it?—
and Andrew brains, While he walked up the
drive and Lily Briscoe said yes and no and capped
his comments (for she was in love with them all,
in love with this world) he weighed Ramsay's case,
commiserated him, envied him, as if he had seen

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