two pounds of _decent_
candy if I did get some mud into the bargain. I'd have come home to tell
you anyway; you _know_ I would don't you?"

"Have I intimated a doubt of it, dear?" The tone was very disarming, and
warm-hearted, quick tempered just-souled little Beverly succumbed.
Throwing her arms about her mother's neck she buried her head upon her
shoulder as she sobbed.

"Oh, do forgive me. I was the horrid one for doubting you and saying such
nasty things. Please give me bally hack and send me away to school quick.
Then maybe I'll learn to think twice before I sass once, as Mammy Riah
says. I reckon what I need is a good strict schoolmarm to boss me
'round."

"I hope the 'bossing' element will be absent from the school we shall
choose. I doubt it would work very well with you, Beverly. Sparks and
gunpowder are apt to lead to pretty serious explosions and I dislike
pyrotechnics which are likely to spread disaster. Now go change your
clothes and make yourself presentable for I hear Uncle Athol calling and
I dare say the momentous question is about to be answered. But what am I
going to do without my little whirlwind to keep things stirring?" ended
Mrs. Ashby, tenderly drawing the penitent into her arms.

"And oh, mumsey, mumsey where shall I ever find any one who will be as
patient with the whirlwind? I suspect I'm going to be desperately
homesick more days than once. But I'll truly, truly try not to disgrace
you and Woodbine. Yes, we're coming Uncle Athol," as the Admiral's
stentorian tones came booming up the broad stairway.

"Mary Beverly, come along quick and hear these letters. Lord save us, I'd
rather run a blockade than choose a school for a couple of youngsters.
I'll be gray, dead and buried before it's done! Come down I say."

"We are coming Uncle," called Mrs. Ashby, laughing softly as she pictured
the gray-haired old Admiral striding up and down the wide hall
anathematizing all the schools in creation and launching side shots at
the boys because they were laughing at him. His roar was far worse than
his attack as the lads well knew, as sitting--no, sprawling--upon the big
claw-foot sofa they did not hesitate to let fly a projectile or two in
return, only to howl at the result, for well both knew his weakness for
his grandniece. "She could wind him around her little finger," they said.

A moment later Mrs. Ashby appeared at the top of the landing to be
greeted by:

"Come and hear these letters. Where