se name was Mary."

"Uncle Westonley likes you."

"Does he?" and the young man's kindly grey eyes smiled as he stroked his
pointed beard. "Good old Ted!"

"Who's Ted?"

"Your Uncle Westonley, of course. Don't you call him 'Uncle Ted'?"

"Oh, _no!_" and the child's big eyes looked startlingly into his, "I
call him 'Uncle Westonley.' Aunt Elizabeth said I must never say 'Uncle
Ted,' as it's vulgar, and she won't allow it, and uncle says I must be
obedient to her."

Gerrard put out his right arm, drew her to him, and looked intently
into her face. In her dreamy, violet-hued eyes, with the dark pencilled
brows, and the small delicate mouth, he saw the image of his dead
twin-sister, Mary.

"Poor little mite!" he again said to himself pityingly, as he looked
at her coarse though not ill-kept clothing, "Lizzie always was a
cold-hearted prig, and always will be to the end of her days--even in
her moribund moments. How could she let this child wander out so far
away from the station." Then he took two or three great puffs at his
pipe. "How far is it to Marumbah, little niece Mary?"

"Five miles, sir."

"Don't say 'sir.' Who taught you to say 'sir'?"

"Aunt Elizabeth."

"But you must not say 'sir' to me. I'm your uncle. And you must call me
'Uncle Tom.' Understand?"

"Aunt Elizabeth insists on my saying 'sir' to gentlemen."

"Does she now? Well, my dear, you must never say 'sir' to me--I'll
ask Aunt Elizabeth not to insist on your calling me 'sir.' You see I
shouldn't like it I want you to call me 'Uncle Tom.' Lots of people call
me Tom. Some of 'em call me Tom and Jerry--short, you know, for Thomas
Gerrard."

"Aunt Elizabeth says you're godless and wild."

"Does she really?" and the grey eyes twinkled. "That's only _her_ way of
talking, you see. 'Godless and wild' doesn't mean anything very bad when
Aunt Elizabeth says it It only means--well, nothing particular. When you
are older you will understand."

"Yes, sir."

"_Uncle Tom!_"

"Yes, Uncle Tom."

"Now, Mary, what about these pippies? Will you let me come with you? I'm
awfully fond of pippies--can eat bushels of 'em."

"Yes, Uncle Tom," and the child's face lighted up, "oh! I wish Jim was
here too. Are you his uncle, too?"

Gerrard rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. His sister Elizabeth had no
children, and he wondered who Jim could be.

"No, I _don't think_ I am. When did he come to Marumbah?"

"Uncle Westonley brought him from Sydney about--about