he clear spring sunshine was falling brightly on the quaint old house;
what of the garden could be seen was exquisitely neat and trim; Robin
Redbreast was looking charming.

'What a _delicious_ old house!' said Jacinth. 'I wonder who lives here?'
and she gave a little sigh. 'Now, Uncle Marmy, wouldn't it be perfectly
lovely if papa's time was out, and he and mamma had come home and we
were all going to live here--just _fancy_!'

'It's awfully pretty,' said Marmaduke, 'but when your father's time's up
I want you all to come back to live at Stannesley with me.'

Jacinth laughed.

'No, that wouldn't do,' she said. 'You'd be getting married. No, it
would be much the nicest for us to live here and you at Stannesley, and
for us to pay each other lovely visits. Of course we'd always be
together at Christmas and times like that. And your wife must be very,
_very_ nice--like a sort of elder sister to us, you know, and'----

'My darlings,' said poor Marmy, to whom it had suddenly occurred to look
at his watch, 'time's up--or just about it. We must hurry back.'

'Let's say good-bye here,' said Frances. 'Let's kiss you here, darling
uncle, not before Aunt Alison in her drawing-room. And, oh, I _will_ try
not to cry.'

So it came to pass that almost their first memory of their new home was
associated for the three children with Robin Redbreast, the old house in
the lane. Often as they passed it, it always brought back to them Uncle
Marmy's sunburnt face and kind eyes, and again they seemed to hear his
'Good-bye, my darlings, good-bye,' which he strove hard to utter without
letting them hear the break in his usually hearty and cheery voice.

Half-an-hour later he was gone.

CHAPTER II.

THE OLD LADY.

It was six months now since the arrival at the house in Market Square
Place. Mr Denison had been long with the regiment at----No, it does not
specially matter where it was in India. The sisters got letters from
him, as well as from their mother, by almost every mail, and in each he
repeated the same thing--that he had never in his life found himself a
person of so much consequence as Colonel and Mrs Mildmay considered him,
seeing that he could give them direct news and description of their
three children. And on their side, this seemed to make their parents
more real and to draw them nearer to Jacinth and Frances, increasing
more and more the intense longing for their return.

It is autumn, a pleasant season in thi