.

"My father! Oh, did you not know, Aunt Catherine?--he died out in
Sydney a year ago. Poor old fellow! he had a terrible illness. There
was no pulling him through it."

Mrs. Challoner roused up at this:

"Your father dead! Then, Harry, you have come to the title?"

But her nephew burst into a boisterous laugh at this:

"Yes,--a title and an old ruin. A precious heritage, is it not? Not
that I care what people call me. The most important part is that
another fellow--Dalton they call him--and I made a grand hit out in
Sydney. When I saw the money flowing in, I just sent for the poor old
governor to join me; and we did not have a bad time of it, until the
gout took him off. And then I got sick of it all, and thought I would
have a look at England and hunt up my relations."

Sir Harry had blurted out this long speech as he still attentively
regarded the lining of his hat; but, happening to look up, he caught
Phillis's eyes, which were contemplating him. The mischievous look of
fun in them was not to be resisted. Sir Harry first got redder, if
possible; then his own eyes began to twinkle, and finally they both
laughed. And after that the ice was broken, and they got on famously.

The girls chattered to him like magpies. They made Mattie take off her
hat and hideous old waterproof and stay to luncheon. Nan smoothed her
hair, which was sadly ruffled, and Phillis settled her brooch and
collar.

There was only cold mutton in the larder; but what did that matter?
Dulce ran out in the garden and picked dahlias for the table; and Nan
took her mother's keys and drew from the recesses of a dim
sweet-smelling press some dainty napkins and a fine old cloth that
might have suited a princess. There was a bottle of rare Madeira that
remained from their stock of wine; and Dorothy had made a batch of
fresh dinner-rolls. Dorothy was always full of resources in an
emergency.

"Don't fash yourself, Miss Nan," she said, when her young mistress
came into the kitchen. "The cold mutton can't be helped; but we have
got angels in the larder, and I will just pop them into the oven."

Sir Harry roared with laughter when Dorothy's speech was repeated to
him. The little puddings were declared by Mattie to be delicious; but
Sir Harry could scarcely eat his for laughing.

"Who ever heard of baked angels, Aunt Catherine!" he exclaimed, after
another explosion.

"My dear, it is only a name," she returned, mildly. "Will you have
another, Ha