the Young temper sticking out of every kink and curve of
his figure. Great-aunt Emily is our aunt on Mother's side, and she
does not like any of the Youngs except Father and Uncle Norman.

This was why we had never visited Monkshead. We had never seen Uncle
William, and we always thought of him as a sort of ogre when we
thought of him at all. When we were children, our old nurse, Margaret
Hannah, used to frighten us into good behaviour by saying ominously,
"If you 'uns aint good your Uncle William'll cotch you."

What he would do to us when he "cotched" us she never specified,
probably reasoning that the unknown was always more terrible than the
known. My private opinion in those days was that he would boil us in
oil and pick our bones.

Uncle Norman and Aunt Jean had been living out west for years. Three
months before this Christmas they had come east, bought a house in
Monkshead, and settled there. They had been down to see us, and Father
and Mother and the boys had been up to see them, but we three girls
had not; so we were pleasantly excited at the thought of spending
Christmas there.

Christmas morning was fine, white as a pearl and clear as a diamond.
We had to go by the seven o'clock train, since there was no other
before eleven, and we reached Monkshead at eight-thirty.

When we stepped from the train the stationmaster asked us if we were
the three Miss Youngs. Alberta pleaded guilty, and he said, "Well,
here's a letter for you then."

We took the letter and went into the waiting room with sundry
misgivings. What had happened? Were Uncle Norman and Aunt Jean
quarantined for scarlet fever, or had burglars raided the pantry and
carried off the Christmas supplies? Elizabeth opened and read the
letter aloud. It was from Aunt Jean to the following effect:

DEAR GIRLS: I am so sorry to disappoint you, but I cannot help
it. Word has come from Streatham that my sister has met with a
serious accident and is in a very critical condition. Your
uncle and I must go to Streatham immediately and are leaving
on the eight o'clock express. I know you have started before
this, so there is no use in telegraphing. We want you to go
right to the house and make yourself at home. You will find
the key under the kitchen doorstep, and the dinner in the
pantry all ready to cook. There are two mince pies on the
third shelf, and the plum pudding only needs to be warmed up.
You will find