elt he ought to have been.

"Eh, what? And how do you expect you are going to set about it, young
man?" he demanded, while Billykins went suddenly red in the face,
because Sylvia had tweaked his jacket, which was the signal that he was
overstepping the mark.

"I don't know, but I expect we will find out when we get there. Don and
I mostly find out how to do things, and Nealie says we are going to be
the business men of the family. Rupert and Rumple have got the brains,
but there is practical perseverance in us----"

The small boy came to a sudden pause, for Sylvia, fearing what he might
say next, had dragged him into the background, leaving Nealie to speak.

"We should be very glad to go to Australia, if you please; for now that
Aunt Judith is dead no one wants us here, and we might be a very great
comfort to our father when he got used to having us." Her voice broke a
little on the last words; she was remembering the letter which she had
so innocently opened and read, and the wonder whether he would be quite
glad to see them at first crept in to spoil her joy at the thought that
perhaps Mr. Runciman was for once going to do the thing they wanted so
badly.

Her words brought a frown to his face, and when he spoke his voice had
an apologetic ring which sounded strangely in the ears of the seven.

"I am sorry that you should feel that no one wants you here. Of course
Mrs. Runciman and my daughters have so many engagements that it is not
easy for them to go as far as Beechleigh very often; but we have
certainly tried to take care of you since your great-aunt passed away."

"You have been most kind," said Nealie hastily, divining in a vague
fashion that she had somehow said something to hurt his feelings, which
was certainly outside her intentions. "But we hate to be a continual
burden upon our connections, and there seems no way in which we can earn
money here."

"Don and I could keep pigs on the stubble fields, only Nealie won't let
us. We could earn half a crown a week at it too," burst out Billykins,
thrusting himself to the front like a jack-in-the-box and disappearing
as suddenly, being again dragged back by Sylvia.

There was a troubled look on the face of Mr. Runciman as his gaze rested
upon Nealie, who was the living image of her dead mother. There was a
secret chamber in his heart that was tenanted by the mournful memory of
a dead love. He had loved the mother of the seven, but she had passed
him by to m