Carey," the writer went on, "just to get your advice about the child. I
well know that your income will not support your own children; what
therefore shall we do with Julia? I am a poor young bachelor, with two
sisters to support. I shall find a position, of course, and I shall
never cease nursing Carey's various affairs and projects during the time
of his exile, but I cannot assume an ounce more of financial
responsibility."

There had been quite a council over the letter, and parts of it had been
read more than once by Mrs. Carey, but the children, though very
sympathetic with Uncle Allan and loud in their exclamations of "Poor
Julia!" had not suggested any remedy for the situation.

"Well," said Mrs. Carey, folding the letter, "there seems to be but one
thing for us to do."

"Do you mean that you are going to have Julia come and live with us,--be
one of the family?" exclaimed Gilbert.

"That is what I want to discuss," she replied. "You three are the family
as well as I.--Come in!" she called, for she heard the swift feet of the
youngest petrel ascending the stairs. "Come in! Where is there a sweeter
Peter, a fleeter Peter, a neater Peter, than ours, I should like to
know, and where a better adviser for the council?"

"_Neater_, mother! How _can_ you?" inquired Kathleen.

"I meant neater when he is just washed and dressed," retorted Peter's
mother. "Are you coming to the family council, sweet Pete?"

Peter climbed on his mother's knee and answered by a vague affirmative
nod, his whole mind being on the extraction of a slippery marble from a
long-necked bottle.

"Then be quiet, and speak only when we ask your advice," continued Mrs.
Carey. "Unless I were obliged to, children, I should be sorry to go
against all your wishes. I might be willing to bear my share of a
burden, but more is needed than that."

"I think," said Nancy suddenly, aware now of the trend of her mother's
secret convictions, "I think Julia is a smug, conceited, vain, affected
little pea--" Here she caught her mother's eye and suddenly she heard
inside of her head or heart or conscience a chime of words. "_Next to
father_!" Making a magnificent oratorical leap she finished her sentence
with only a second's break,--"peacock, but if mother thinks Julia is a
duty, a duty she is, and we must brace up and do her. Must we love her,
mother, or can we just be good and polite to her, giving her the breast
and taking the drumstick? _She_ won't ever s