the pleasant, genial face, banished Harold's fears, and
when the stranger held out his hand, saying, "I am your mamma's cousin,
won't you come and sit on my knee?" the child went to him at once; while
the others gathered eagerly about.

"Mamma's cousin! then she will be very glad to see you," said Elsie.

"But she never told us about you," observed Eddie.

"Ah ha, ah ha! um h'm! ah ha! But did she ever tell you about any of her
mother's kin?"

"No, sir," said Elsie, "I asked her once, and she said she didn't know
anything about them; she wished she did."

"Ah ha! ah ha, um h'm! ah ha! Well, she soon will. Child, you look very
like a picture of your great-grandmother that hangs in my house in
Edinburgh. A bonny lassie she must have been when it was taken."

"Yes, sir; and she's the picture of mamma;" remarked Eddie; "everybody
says so."

"Ah ha, ah ha! um h'm, ah ha!"

"Has you dot any 'ittle boys and dirls at your house?" asked Harold.

"Yes, my man, a quiver full of them."

"Are they good? do they love Jesus?" asked Vi. "Please tell us about
them."

"If you like to, sir," said Elsie, with a sweet and gentle gravity.
"Vi, dear, you know we mustn't tease."

"No, I didn't mean to tease," Vi answered, blushing. "Please excuse me,
sir, and don't tell it 'less you want to."

"No, no; it will give me pleasure, my dear. I enjoy talking of my
darlings; especially now when they are so far away."

He seemed about to begin, when Elsie, blushing deeply, said, "Excuse me,
sir, I have been very remiss in my hospitalities. It is early, and
perhaps you have not breakfasted."

"Yes, thank you my dear, I took breakfast at the village hotel, where I
arrived last night."

"But you will take a cup of coffee and some fruit--"

Her sentence was broken off; for at that instant a lady and gentleman
came galloping up the avenue and the little ones hailed them with a
joyous shout, "Papa and mamma!"

Another moment and Mr. Travilla had dismounted, gallantly assisted his
wife to do the same and together they stepped into the veranda. Both
bowed politely to the stranger, and the children running to them cried,
"Mamma, mamma, it is your cousin from Scotland."

She turned inquiringly to him, a flush of pleasure on her face.

He had risen from his seat, and was coming toward her with outstretched
hand and earnest, admiring gaze. "My name is Ronald Lilburn; your
maternal grandmother and mine were sisters," he said, "your
grand