ft for months at
a time in the busy solitude of a great city hotel, while Mr. Burnam was
far away in unexplored forests, and often, as now, settled near him for
a few months of housekeeping which should give her children at least a
slight knowledge of home life and its charms.

Two years after her marriage, a little son had come to her, and, soon
after that, a daughter had helped to fill out the family circle. It
seemed to Mrs. Burnam but a few months since then; but Howard was
fourteen now, and Allie twelve, while, two years before this time, a
third child had come to brighten the home with his baby prattle and
pranks. For weeks, his name had been a subject of almost constant
discussion, until, one day, Howard had solved the problem in a most
unexpected fashion.

"I'll tell you what," he said suddenly; "name him Victor, for my new
bicycle." And the name was decided upon accordingly.

Howard, himself, was a worthy son of the handsome, brown-bearded man
whom he called papa. Tall, slender, and yellow haired, he was as bonnie
a laddie as ever filled a mother's heart with pride; a healthy, happy
boy, affectionate and generous, and full of a rollicking fun which made
him at once the delight and terror of his sister, who never knew in what
direction his next outbreak would come. In spite of his merciless
teasing, the brother and sister were close friends and constantly
together. Girls were scarce in the town, and Allie and her one friend,
Marjorie Fisher, would have been largely left to their own devices, had
it not been for Howard and Ned Everett, through whose influence they
were received on equal terms among the boys, and had a share in most of
their good times. It was no uncommon thing to hear them speak of "Allie
and Marjorie and the other boys," and neither Mrs. Burnam nor Mrs.
Fisher felt any desire to have it otherwise. They were too sensible
mothers to force their little daughters towards womanhood, and much
preferred the tone of free-and-easy companionship to the childish
flirtations so commonly indulged in. They could trust to their influence
over their children to keep them gentle and womanly, and the boys were
all gentlemen, largely sons of Eastern men whom business had brought to
the town. So the girls walked and rode, skated and romped with the lads,
unconsciously teaching them many a pretty lesson in chivalry, while in
return the boys gave them a training which made them enduring and
courageous, and hardy a