Our Odd-men 



Edward. He had never been strong as 

 we younger ones were, and as he grew 

 up he became gradually very delicate 

 indeed. He was something of a student, 

 and I think every one who knew him loved 

 and revered that gentle spirit. Many and 

 many a time he spoke to Sprightly when 

 we others might only have laughed or 

 appeared indifferent : the poor fellow took 

 his words much to heart, and after Edward's 

 lightest word of reproach, his remorse 

 showed itself in an almost frantic anxiety 

 to run errands for him. 



But I do not think that any one of us 

 realised how deep was this feeling until 

 my brother died. Edward's death came 

 upon us with sad suddenness, although for 

 ever so long we had noticed the ever- 

 increasing transparency and frailty of his 

 look and bearing. He and his wife were 

 living at Henfield, a little village about 

 eleven miles from Brighton. They had 

 been spending Christmas with us, and my 

 mother was trying to persuade him to stay 

 a few days more ; he was restless and said 

 no — he must get back, he must go home. 

 Only one day more, pleaded my Mother, 

 perhaps the weather would be warmer by 

 then, and, besides, he was not feeling well, 

 she was sure. Then the doctor who had 

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