n. "We think the children from
Australia--the children mother was arranging about--might come here
still. We mean that Polly and I would like them to come, and that we
would do our best for them. We think, Polly and I do, that mother, even
though she is not here, would still like the strangers to come."

"Sit down, Helen," said the Doctor; the harassed look had once again
come across his face, and even Polly noticed the dimness in his eyes.

"You must not undertake too much, you two," he said. "You are only
children. You are at an age to miss your mother at every turn. We had
arranged to have a boy and girl from Australia to live here, but when
your mother--your mother was taken--I gave up the idea. It was too
late to stop their coming to England, but I think I can provide a
temporary home for them when they get to London. You need not trouble
your head about the strange children, Nell."

"It is not that," said Polly. "We don't know them yet, so of course we
don't love them, but we wish them to come here, because we wish for
their money. It will be eight pounds a week; just what you spend on the
house, you know, father."

"What a little economist!" said Dr. Maybright, stretching out his hand
and drawing Polly to him. "Yes, I was to receive L400 a year for the
children, and it would have been a help, certainly it would have been a
help by and by. Still, my dear girls, I don't see how it is to be
managed."

"But really, father, we are so many that two more make very little
difference," explained Helen. "Polly and I are going to try hard to be
steady and good, and we think it would certainly please mother if you
let the strangers come here, and we tried to make them happy. If you
would meet them, father, and bring them here just at first, we might see
how we got on."

"I might," said the Doctor in a meditative voice, "and L400 is a good
deal of money. It is not easily earned, and with a large family it is
always wanted. That's what your mother said, and she was very wise.
Still, still, children, I keep forgetting how old you are. In reality
you are, neither of you, grown up; in reality Polly is quite a child,
and you, my wise little Nell, are very little more. I have offended your
aunt, Mrs. Cameron, as it is, and what will she say if I yield to you on
this point? Still, still----"

"Oh, father, don't mind what that tiresome Aunt Maria says or thinks on
any subject," said Polly. "Why should we mind her, she wasn't