. "What am I to tell you about--our missionaries
in Sulu?"

"In the first place," began Drina, "you are to lie down flat on the
floor and creep about and show us how the Moros wriggle through the
grass to bolo our sentinels."

"Why, it's--it's this way," began Selwyn, leaning back in his
rocking-chair and comfortably crossing one knee over the other; "for
instance, suppose--"

"Oh, but you must _show_ us!" interrupted Billy. "Get down on the floor
please, uncle."

"I can tell it better!" protested Selwyn; "I can show you just the--"

"Please lie down and show us how they wriggle?" begged Drina.

"I don't want to get down on the floor," he said feebly; "is it
necessary?"

But they had already discovered that he could be bullied, and they had
it their own way; and presently Selwyn lay prone upon the nursery floor,
impersonating a ladrone while pleasant shivers chased themselves over
Drina, whom he was stalking.

And it was while all were passionately intent upon the pleasing and
snake-like progress of their uncle that a young girl in furs, ascending
the stairs two at a time, peeped perfunctorily into the nursery as she
passed the hallway--and halted amazed.

Selwyn, sitting up rumpled and cross-legged on the floor, after having
boloed Drina to everybody's exquisite satisfaction, looked around at the
sudden rustle of skirts to catch a glimpse of a vanishing figure--a
glimmer of ruddy hair and the white curve of a youthful face,
half-buried in a muff.

Mortified, he got to his feet, glanced out into the hallway, and began
adjusting his attire.

"No, you don't!" he said mildly, "I decline to perform again. If you
want any more wriggling you must accomplish it yourselves. Drina, has
your governess--by any unfortunate chance--er--red hair?"

"No," said the child; "and won't you _please_ crawl across the floor and
bolo me--just _once_ more?"

"Bolo me!" insisted Billy. "I haven't been mangled yet!"

"Let Billy assassinate somebody himself. And, by the way, Drina, are
there any maids or nurses or servants in this remarkable house who
occasionally wear copper-tinted hair and black fox furs?"

"No. Eileen does. Won't you please wriggle--"

"Who is Eileen?"

"Eileen? Why--don't you know who Eileen is?"

"No, I don't," began Captain Selwyn, when a delighted shout from the
children swung him toward the door again. His sister, Mrs. Gerard, stood
there in carriage gown and sables, radiant with surprise.

"Phil