them and the nephew and niece
she had left but a few weeks ago in England--the children of
another sister, orphans who lived with their grandparents in the
old home.

"Well, chicks," said Aunt Dorothy, with a laugh, "who is going to
speak to me first?"

They were standing, all in an untidy row, Becky, with one finger in
her mouth, hanging on to Nesta's skirt.

To the new-comer they looked pasty-faced, spiritless beings. The
prints that the girls were dressed in were rather washed out; Peter
had outgrown his suit. They were ill-clad, shy, and awkward.

Eustace flushed with an uncomfortable feeling that they were not
behaving very courteously, and came forward the instant Miss Chase
spoke. Nesta followed, and then Peter, all as stiff as pokers in
their shyness. But Becky Miss Chase picked up with a playful little
shake, and kissed her heartily.

"Oh, you dear, funny wee soul," she said, "how glad I am to see
you. I've brought out a Kodak and I've promised to take all your
photos almost every other day, for certainly no one at home could
guess the least little bit what you are like."

Becky did not resent the unceremonious treatment at all, but took
it quite placidly in her own particular way. This gave Peter
confidence.

"Have you brought lots of boxes?" he asked, with an interested
stare up into his young aunt's face.

Eustace pulled his sleeve.

"Shut up," he whispered. "Don't ask questions; it's rude."

Eustace felt uncomfortable. He knew quite well whither his small
brother's questions were trending. Peter was wondering what would
be in those boxes for himself.

"A good many," answered Miss Chase; but she was allowed time to say
no more, because she was hurried into the house to rest and
refresh.

At tea the children sat round as solemn as owls and listened to all
the questions and answers about the home folk. They picked up
scraps of information most interesting to themselves, especially
about the English cousins, Herbert, who was sixteen, and Brenda,
who was a month or so older than the twins. From time to time they
had heard of these cousins in letters, but it made them seem much
more real when they were talked about by some one who had just come
away from them.

"Herbert is a very big fellow," Miss Chase said. "He is doing
famously at Winchester."

"Lucky chap," thought Eustace, who never read a school story
without longing to go to a big English school.

"And what about Brenda?" questioned