hing. Trevor's a King's Cadet, but they wouldn't give us
two cadetships ... Still," she added, more cheerfully, "it's cheaper
than anything else for a soldier's son."

"Is your father a soldier?" asked Jan.

"Oh, yes, a major in the Westshires; but he had to leave the Army
because of his health, and his pension is very small, and mother had so
little money. I sometimes think it killed her trying to do everything on
nothing."

"Were you quite small when she died?" Fay asked in a sympathetic
whisper.

"Oh, no; I was nearly twelve, and quite as big as I am now. Then I kept
house while the boys were at Bedford, but when they went to Sandhurst
poor little Papa thought I'd better get some education, too, and Uncle
John's wife offered to take me for nothing, so here I am. HERE, it's too
wonderful. Who could have dreamed that Ribston Hall would lead to this?"
And Meg snuggled down in Jan's kind embrace, her red hair spread around
her like a veil.

"Are some of the richly-dressed relations nice?" Jan asked hopefully.

"I don't know if you'd think them nice--you seem to expect such a lot
from people--but they're quite kind--only it's a different sort of
kindness from yours here. They don't laugh and expect you to enjoy
yourself, like _your_ father. My brothers say they are dull ... they
call them--I'm afraid it's very ungrateful--the weariful rich. But I
expect we're weariful to them too. I suppose poor relations _are_ boring
if you're well-off yourself. But we get pretty tired, too, when they
talk us over."

"But do you mean to say they talk you over _to_ you?"

"Always," Meg said firmly. "How badly we manage, how improvident we are,
how Papa ought to rouse himself and I ought to manage better, and how
foolish it is to let the boys go into the Army instead of banks and
things ... And yet, you know, it hasn't cost much for Trevor, and once
he's in he'll be able to manage, and Jo said he'd enlist if there was
any more talk of banks, and poor little Papa had to give in--so there it
is."

"How much older are they than you?" Jan asked.

"Trevor's nineteen and Jo's eighteen, and they are the greatest darlings
in the world. They always lifted the heavy saucepans for me at Bedford,
and filled the buckets and did the outsides of the windows, and carried
up the coals to Papa's sitting-room before they went to school in the
morning, and they very seldom grumbled at my cooking...."

"But where were the servants?" Fay asked inn