g, I can't help it. What is the reason that you always feel so
badly when I speak of Aunt Kate?"

He looked at her in blank surprise for an instant; then, as she still
awaited his reply, he echoed her words, "Feel badly when you speak of
Aunt Kate! Why, my child, what do you mean?"

"I mean, Uncle dear, that there is a secret in the house; something you
have never told Don and me. It's always coming up and making mischief,
and I don't think it's right at all. Neither does Don."

"That's so, Uncle," said Donald, emphatically; "we feel sure there is
something that gives you trouble. Why not let us share it with you?
Remember, we are not little children any longer."

The uncle looked quickly from one to the other, mentally deciding that
the children could be told only the facts that were positively known to
him; then seating himself on the corner of a large chest, he drew Don
and Dorry towards him.

"Yes, my children," he said, in his own hearty way, as if already a load
had been taken from his mind, "there is something. It is right that I
should tell you, and this is as good a time as any. Put the doll away,
Dorry" (he spoke very gently now), "wherever you please, and come down
stairs. It is chilly up here--and, by the way, you will catch cold in
that thin gown. What have we been thinking of all this while?"

"Oh, I'm as warm as toast, Uncle," she replied, at the same time taking
her pretty merino dress from the old chair upon which she had thrown it,
scarcely an hour ago; "but I suppose it's always better to be on the
safe side, as Liddy says."

"Much better," said Uncle, nodding with forced cheerfulness. "Down with
you, Dot. We'll join you in a minute."

Dorry, as she left them, saw her uncle stooping low to peer into the far
roof-end of the garret, and she had time to place Delia carefully in her
treasure-cabinet, put on the warmer dress, and be ready to receive her
uncle and Donald before they made their appearance.

"May we be your guests, Dot?" asked Uncle George, at her door.

"Oh, yes, sir; come right in here," was her pleased response, as, with
a conflict of curiosity and dread, Dorry gracefully conducted them into
her cosey corner.

"It is too pretty and dainty here for our rough masculine tread, eh,
Don?" was Mr. Reed's remark, as, with something very like a sigh, he
placed himself beside Dorry upon the sofa, while her brother took a seat
close by.

"Well," began Dorry, clasping her hands tightly,