f Lewis Leighton had been whispered about the house,
first by the grown-ups and finally, when the Reverend Orme and his wife
had come to the great decision, by the children. The children knew
nothing of the great decision nor did they know the sources of their
sudden joy. Their spirits were reaching out to clasp this new thread in
life at an age when all new threads are golden.

On the appointed day the Reverend Orme went to the nearest seaport to
meet the youthful voyager and convoy him home. As evening drew near,
great was the excitement at Consolation Cottage. To Natalie and to
Shenton, the sudden arrival of an entirely new brother, not in
swaddling-clothes, but handed down ready-made from the shelf, was an
event that loomed to unusual proportions. At last the great gate swung
open, and a cab rattled its leisurely way up the drive.

In an instant the children were on their feet, jumping up and down and
clapping their hands. "Mother," shouted Shenton, "they're coming!"
Little Natalie clambered in stumbling haste up the steps and clutched
Mrs. Leighton's skirts. "Muvver," she cried, in an agony of ecstasy,
"they're _coming!_"

"Yes, yes, dear; I see. Oh, look how you've rumpled your dress! What
will Lewis say to that? Come, Shenton, give mother your hand." Slowly
she led them down the steps, her eyes fixed on the approaching cab.

The Reverend Orme sprang out and up to meet them. He kissed his wife and
children. Shenton clung to his arm.

"O Dad," he cried, "didn't you bring him?"

"Bring him? I should say I did. Here, step out, young man."

A chubby face above a blouse, a short kilt and fat legs, appeared from
the shadows of the cab. Grave eyes passed fearlessly over the group on
the steps until they settled on the broad black face of Mammy.

"Bad nigger!"

Mrs. Leighton gasped and arrested herself in the very movement of
welcome. Mammy's genial face assumed a terrible scowl, her white eyes
bulged, and her vast arms went suddenly akimbo.

"Wha' 's that yo' say, yo' young Marster?" she thundered.

"Go--go--_good_ nigger," stuttered the chubby face and smiled. With that
he was swept from the cab into Mrs. Leighton's arms, and Mammy, grinning
from ear to ear, caught him by one fat leg and demanded in soft negro
tones:

"Wha' fo' you call yo' mammy 'bad niggah,' young Marster? Ho! ho!
'Go--go--_good_ niggah!' Did yo' hea' him, Mis' Ann?"

Shenton and Natalie jumped up and down, with, cries of "Please, Mothe