John, the elder of the two brothers, was a silent youth whose one passion
seemed to be eavesdropping. He hung round doors in the hopes of
overhearing his sisters' conversation and if he heard Esther and the
little girl who helped Esther in her work talking in the kitchen, he would
steal cautiously halfway down the stairs. Esther often thought that his
young woman must be sadly in want of a sweetheart to take on with one such
as he. "Come along, Amy," he would cry, passing out before her; and not
even at the end of a long walk did he offer her his arm; and they came
strolling home just like boy and girl.
Hubert, John's younger brother, was quite different. He had escaped the
family temperament, as he had escaped the family upper lip. He was the one
spot of colour in a somewhat sombre household, and Esther liked to hear
him call back to his mother, "All right, mother, I've got the key; no one
need wait up for me. I'll make the door fast."
"Oh, Hubert, don't be later than eleven. You are not going out dancing
again, are you? Your father will have the electric bell put on the door,
so that he may know when you come in."
The four girls were all ruddy-complexioned and long upper-lipped. The
eldest was the plainest; she kept her father's books, and made the pastry.
The second and third entertained vague hopes of marriage.
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