Berquin understood the practical interests of children, but he had not Miss Edgeworth’s keen eye for things that “draw”. The purple jar in the chemists’ window, the coloured sugar-plums of the little merchants, the green and white uniform. Berquin’s children were never so independent as these. His orphans were adopted; Miss Edgeworth’s keep house by themselves in a ruined castle, and ply their trades of knitting and spinning and shoe-making with the rhythm of a singing game. The finding of a treasure among the ruins is a freak of romance that holds the imagination even while the coins are being weighed and marked.