ught helped them along, and that was how they could be a comfort to
their father. Margot ordered the household. Mr. Allonby came in and
out, speaking little to anyone. He took long walks by himself, and
would shut himself up for hours in his den writing, or trying to write,
the book that was going to bring him a fortune.

Autumn crept on; the days grew short, and dark, and at last Margot
ventured to have a talk with her master.

'It will be about the children's schooling,' she said hesitatingly.
'Miss True is getting a big girl--and Master Bobby----'

'Oh!' groaned her master, 'how am I to send them away from me? But I
am thinking over plans, Margot. I want to get away from this tiny
house. I think of going to London, and perhaps going abroad again.
Let the children run wild a little longer, then when we move to London
I can settle something.'

Margot withdrew. She had said her say, and dreaded any change herself.

One evening after their tea was over, Mr. Allonby broached the subject
to the children himself. The little sitting-room was very cosy in the
firelight. True was sitting with an air of immense importance trying
to darn a worsted sock of her father's. Margot had been giving her
lessons, and with a very big needle, and a thread that was so long that
it continually got itself into knots, she worked away at an alarming
looking hole in the heel.

Bobby and Nobbles were lying on the hearthrug; they had been looking at
a picture-book together; but directly Mr. Allonby spoke, the book was
shut and Bobby was all attention.

'I'm afraid your idle time must soon come to an end,' he said. 'Margot
is reminding me what little dunces you are. Can either of you read a
book properly yet?'

'I can,' said True. 'I read to Bobby often; but I'm rather tired of my
books. I know them all by heart.'

'I can nearly read,' said Bobby. 'I reads to Nobbles often.'

'Oh, that's only your make up!' said True, a little scornfully. 'You
can't read long words at all; you know you can't. But, dad, you won't
send us to school, will you--not away from you?'

'I'm afraid I must.'

Bobby's look of horror made his father smile. He lifted him upon his
knee.

'Every boy goes to school, Bobby. You don't want to be a baby always,
do you?'

'Mother said,' asserted Bobby gravely, 'that I was to be your little
kerpanion; she didn't want me never to leave you.'

'You're a first-rate little companion, sonny. I shall mi