u?"

"Oh, yes," answered the father of the Curlytops. "We got Uncle Toby's
letter all right, and we came to take charge. But----"

"We'd like to know _what_ we are going to take!" interrupted Mrs. Martin.
She felt she must say something, with all those queer noises going on in
the house.

"Maybe it's babies!" suggested Trouble, as he listened to what seemed to
be a crying sound from the old mansion.

"They're worse than babies!" declared Mrs. Watson. "I don't mind children
and babies. But these things make so much noise I can't hear myself
think. That's why I came out on the steps to sit down and be quiet! Oh,
I'm so glad you've come to take charge of 'em!"

"But what are they? You haven't told us what they are," said Mr. Martin,
as the screeching, yelling noises kept on sounding from within the
house. "Do they always screech like that?"

"Only when they're hungry," said the queer old lady. "And I expect
they're hungry now. I just hate to go in to feed them, they make such a
fuss, and I'm afraid some of 'em will bite me. Not on purpose you know,"
she quickly added, "but just because they're so playful and full of fun."

"My dear Mrs. Watson," said Mr. Martin in slow tones, "will you _please_
tell us what it is my Uncle Toby has left for me to take charge of! Is it
an insane asylum?"

"Yes, for goodness' sake, please tell us!" begged the mother of the
Curlytops.

"Why, I thought you knew!" replied Mrs. Watson, in some surprise. "Didn't
Uncle Toby speak of them in his letter?"

"No, he did not say what they were," answered Mr. Martin. "He only
mentioned a collection. Please tell us. What is making all that racket?"

"Uncle Toby's pets," was the answer. "Uncle Toby said he was going to
leave them to you when he went away on a long trip. He may be gone for
several years, and he said he might live the rest of his life in South
America, where he is going. So he told me to give you his pets to take
charge of. You are to take them, and do as you please with them, though I
guess Uncle Toby would like to have you keep them and be kind to them."

"Uncle Toby's _pets_!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin.

"Is there a dog?" asked Teddy, his eyes shining in delight. "Won't
Skyrocket be glad? Do you hear that, old fellow?" went on Teddy, leaning
down to pet the dog that had jumped from the automobile and was looking
as if in wonder at the house whence came such strange noises. "You're
going to have another dog to play with. Uncle T