much strength as a baby in Eustace's grip, for the
elder boy was a well-built, square-shouldered fellow, and powerful
for his age.

Mrs. Orban looked up at the commotion, and wondered what it could
be all about so suddenly.

"As you are strong, be merciful, Eustace," she said quietly--that
was all.

Eustace instantly let go, and Peter stood for a second staring down
at the two red rings round his wrists, then, as Eustace turned
unconcernedly away, dashed at his back and pommelled it.

"Go on," said Eustace with seeming carelessness, but the words were
jerked out by the thumps; "my coat hasn't had a brushing for a
week. Glad to get the dust out of it."

"Peter, Peter," said his mother warningly, "you surely don't want
to be sent away before the parcel is opened, do you?"

This stopped Peter effectually; a minute later he had forgotten his
grievance, which was also Peter's way.

"So the great day has come at last," said Mr. Orban, coming out
from the house on to the veranda, which was so large and spacious
that it was as useful to the household as several extra rooms.

Mrs. Orban put away her sewing, and every one gathered round the
table as Mr. Orban began carefully undoing the string.

"Here's my knife, father," Eustace said, with a pleading note in
his voice.

"Plenty of time, my lad," Mr. Orban said quietly. "One doesn't get
a bit of string like this every day."

Becky had become infected by the excitement at last, and now
insisted upon being held up in her mother's arms. All the eager
eyes were bent on Mr. Orban's hands as he skilfully untied knot
after knot.

"You won't unpick the sewing on the American cloth too, will you?"
asked Nesta anxiously.

"No; I think we can cut that, Miss Impatience," laughed her father.
"Mother could hardly use it again even for hemming floor-cloths."

"I'm not so sure, Jack," said Mrs. Orban; "my stock of cottons is
running very low. It is time you went away and brought me a fresh
supply."

Mr. Orban undid the last knot, but instead of taking the knife
Eustace was still patiently holding out, he began winding up the
string into a neat coil. The children glanced up in desperation, to
find his face grave and preoccupied. He looked as if he had
entirely forgotten the parcel.

"What is it, dear?" said Mrs. Orban, with sudden alarm in her
voice. "Is anything wrong?"

Mr. Orban roused himself with an effort.

"Oh no," he replied slowly; "nothing wrong exactly. Only