liged to you."

Alberta rose, went to the mantel piece, took the key of the bracelet
therefrom, and unlocked it. Then she faced Uncle William. "Mrs. Young
told us in her letter that we would find our Christmas gifts on the
table, so we took it for granted that these things belonged to us,"
she said desperately. "And now, if you will kindly tell us where Mr.
Norman Young does live, we won't intrude on you any longer. Come,
girls."

Elizabeth and I rose with a sigh. There was nothing else to be done,
of course, but we were fearfully hungry, and we did not feel
enthusiastic over the prospect of going to another empty house and
cooking another dinner.

"Wait a bit," said Uncle William. "I think since you have gone to all
the trouble of cooking the dinner it's only fair you should stay and
help to eat it. Accidents seem to be rather fashionable just now. My
housekeeper's son broke his leg down at Weston, and I had to take her
there early this morning. Come, introduce yourselves. To whom am I
indebted for this pleasant surprise?"

"We are Elizabeth, Alberta, and Mary Young of Green Village," I said;
and then I looked to see the ogre creep out if it were ever going to.

But Uncle William merely looked amazed for the first moment, foolish
for the second, and the third he was himself again.

"Robert's daughters?" he said, as if it were the most natural thing in
the world that Robert's daughters should be there in his house. "So
you are my nieces? Well, I'm very glad to make your acquaintance. Sit
down and we'll have dinner as soon as I can get my coat off. I want to
see if you are as good cooks as your mother used to be long ago."

We sat down, and so did Uncle William. Alberta had her chance to show
what she could do at carving, for Uncle William said it was something
he never did; he kept a housekeeper just for that. At first we felt a
bit stiff and awkward; but that soon wore off, for Uncle William was
genial, witty, and entertaining. Soon, to our surprise, we found that
we were enjoying ourselves. Uncle William seemed to be, too. When we
had finished he leaned back and looked at us.

"I suppose you've been brought up to abhor me and all my works?" he
said abruptly.

"Not by Father and Mother," I said frankly. "They never said anything
against you. Margaret Hannah did, though. She brought us up in the way
we should go through fear of you."

Uncle William laughed.

"Margaret Hannah was a faithful old enemy of min