You would pass over, I believe, the
children on ponies and in sailor suits, that elderly, ample lady, brooched
and in black, beaming under the status of Grandmamma, that gaitered
gentleman with a square-topped felt hat upon his head and grizzled
whiskers below his ears, in favour of a group of five girls in black
muslin and lace, sisters evidently, prosperously together, an uncommonly
happy five. They look on good terms with themselves and with each other.
They look frankly at you out of the frame--and how they must have dazzled
the photographer with their five pair of bright, uncompromising eyes!
Hands rest easily upon familiar shoulders, elbows on knees. One of them
smiles outright, two are very ready to smile; one is more serious, as
becomes the eldest of five; and one is round-cheeked and solemn--the baby.
Miss Percival and her sisters, it's clear. One can't mistake the rounded
chin, the level brows, the promise of womanhood. Women should always be
photographed in evening dress if, like the Misses Percival, they have
nothing to hide. But now to pick out our Miss Percival. You will observe
that the young ladies' names are neatly printed beneath their persons.
Even if I were sure of dates, I should not insist upon the serious one.
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