e girl
thought to herself--almost as broad as he was long.

She held out her hand very politely, however, and said "How do you do?"
and the little, old gentleman bowed three times, and then sat down
again on the sofa.

"I cannot speak your language very well," he said, in a high, squeaky
voice. "But I want to make your acquaintance, and the acquaintance of
your brothers and your sisters. Where are they, if you please?"

"I'll go and fetch them," said Mary; and she went out into the hall,
and called the other children, who were all sitting in a row at the
foot of the staircase.

They jumped up when they saw Mary, and followed her across the hall in
great glee when they heard that the foreign gentleman wanted to see
them also.

"He is a _very_ queer old gentleman," she whispered: "but you mustn't
laugh, any of you, or look at each other--promise!"

[Illustration: "You mustn't laugh, any of you--promise!"]

"We promise," cried the children; and they pressed eagerly into the
room, with Snap, the fox-terrier, bringing up the rear.

CHAPTER III.

THE LITTLE FOREIGN GIRL.

Before the children had time to shake hands with the old gentleman,
Snap darted forward and sprang upon him eagerly--not barking or
sniffing round his feet and ankles, as he usually did to strangers,
making them feel as if he were looking out for a nice place for a bite,
but jumping up and throwing himself upon him with little yelps of
delight, behaving, indeed, just as he always did if he thought anyone
was going to take him for a walk.

And what do you think the old gentleman said? He said: "Down Snap,
down Snap!" rather crossly and in a voice that the children knew quite
well; and almost before they had time to think how funny it was that he
should know their dog's name, or, indeed, to wonder about anything at
all, Snap made another frantic leap, and seizing hold of the old
gentleman's white beard, dragged it off his chin, and darted off round
the table with it in his mouth, shaking it as if it were a rabbit or a
rat!

"Philip! Oh, Philip!" cried the children.

And Philip it was; naughty Philip, who had dressed himself up that wet
afternoon to pretend that he was the foreign gentleman from the Grange;
and, indeed, he had taken them all in finely.

"Oh, Philip! Philip! Why didn't I guess who you were?" cried Mary, as
her brother leant back laughing against the sofa-cushions. "And fancy
my not knowing my own sash!" pointing t