d of two big toes: which of them are we to
congratulate on this first stride in the march of improvement?"

She broke out in the merriest laugh. A pause followed in which her face
wore a puzzled expression. Then she said all at once, "Papa, it is very
odd, but I can't tell which of them," and burst into tears. I was
afraid that I had done more harm than good.

"It is not of the slightest consequence, my child," I said. "You have
had so little communication with the twins of late, that it is no
wonder you should not be able to tell the one from the other."

She smiled again through her sobs, but was silent, with shining face,
for the rest of the evening. Our hopes took a fresh start, but we heard
no more from her of her power over her big toe. As often as I inquired
she said she was afraid she had made a mistake, for she had not had
another hint of its existence. Still I thought it could not have been a
fancy, and I would cleave to my belief in the good sign.

Percivale called to see us several times, but always appeared anxious
not to intrude more of his society upon us than might be agreeable. He
grew in my regard, however; and at length I asked him if he would
assist me in another surprise which I meditated for my companions, and
this time for Connie as well, and which I hoped would prevent the
painful influences of the sight of the sea from returning upon them
when they went back to Kilkhaven: they must see the sea from a quite
different shore first. In a word I would take them to Tintagel, of the
near position of which they were not aware, although in some of our
walks we had seen the ocean in the distance. An early day was fixed for
carrying out our project, and I proceeded to get everything ready. The
only difficulty was to find a carriage in the neighbourhood suitable
for receiving Connie's litter. In this, however, I at length succeeded,
and on the morning of a glorious day of blue and gold, we set out for
the little village of Trevenna, now far better known than at the time
of which I write. Connie had b