and he was calling to Joseph to bring him dry shoes.
He had grown tall of his age, still wanting some months of sixteen. His features were pretty yet, and his eye and complexion brighter than I remembered them, though with merely temporary lustre borrowed from the salubrious air and genial sun.
"Now, who is that?" asked Mr. Heathcliff, turning to Cathy. "Can you tell?"
"Your son?" she said, having doubtfully surveyed, first one, and then the other.
"Yes, yes," answered he; "but is this the only time you have beheld him? Think! Ah! you have a short memory. Linton, don't you recall your cousin, that you used to tease us so, with wishing to see?"
"What, Linton!" cried Cathy, kindling into joyful surprise at the name. "Is that little Linton? He's taller than I am! Are you, Linton?"
The youth stepped forward, and acknow-
