UNCLE EUSTACE.

"There," said Mr. Amory, "you see. Not, however, that I should have let
my sons go away in it--at any rate, without me"--the two little boys
winced--"but different people have different ideas. Well," he
continued, "I have been investigating, and of course I soon discovered
that the caravan had come here, and that your children had gone off in
it. I will admit that we have only just come to Chiswick, and that you
were better known here; but the fact remains that the letter was
addressed, not to the name of Avory, but Amory."

Mrs. Avory was bewildered. "It is all very unexpected," she said. "I
really cannot remember reading the address on the envelope at all. It
was handed to me as mine, and I opened it. It may have been Amory. If
you care to see the letter, I have it."

"Please," said Mr. Amory; and Mrs. Avory went to her desk.

"Now, boys, listen to me," said Mr. Amory to his two sons. "Let this be
a lesson to you. Never give anonymous presents. It is foolish, and it
leads to trouble; and very likely the wrong person will be thanked."

Mrs. Avory handed him the letter, and he read it.

"Quite clear," he said, "but not what I call a sensible way of doing
things. Your explanation satisfies me."

Mrs. Avory expressed her regret that the mistake had occurred. "But,"
she added, "you must allow that we had no other course than to accept
the present as though it really belonged to us. We have for so many
years been the only Avories here."

"But have you so many friends," Mr. Amory inquired, "who would be
likely to give you anonymously so handsome a gift? It did not strike
you as strange?"

"Certainly not," said Mrs. Avory.

Mr. Amory again said "Ha!"

"The caravan," Mrs. Avory resumed, rising to her feet, "shall be put in
order directly it returns, and sent to your address. Anything that has
been taken from it or broken shall be replaced. I can say no more than
that. Good afternoon."

It was not, however, the end of the visit, for at that instant the
sound of heavy wheels was heard, and cheers in the street, and, looking
out of the window, Mrs. Avory saw that the Slowcoach had already
arrived, escorted (as it had left) by all the children of Chiswick, and
a moment later Janet burst into the room, crying, "Mother, do come and
see!"

She pulled up stiff on observing the strangers.

"Janet, dear," said Mrs. Avory, "there has been a serious mistake. The
Slowcoach is not ours at all. It bel