med Tom Ellis, after listening with breathless
interest to one of these stories, "you're a regular book, you are, and
I'd rather hear you tell stories than to read Captain Marryat or Paul
du Chaillu."

But there was one story Mark never would tell. It was that of his
terrible experience in the buried river. Of this he tried to think as
little as possible, and when the boys saw that it really distressed him
to talk of it they forbore to urge him to do so.

Of course Ruth did not feel as Mark did about it, and she told the
story many times, and everybody who heard it declared it was a most
wonderful experience. They also seemed to think that in some way the
mere fact that the hero of such an adventure was a Norton boy reflected
great credit on the village.

Both Mark and Ruth saw a greater resemblance in the real Edna May to
Frank March than had been shown by her photograph; but they remembered
their promise to Captain Bill, and did not speak of it except to each
other. It was very hard for Ruth to keep this promise, for Edna had
become much interested in Frank through her letters, and now asked many
questions about him. Ruth told her all she knew, except the one great
secret that was on the end of her tongue a dozen times, but was never
allowed to get any further.

Two weeks had been spent very happily by the children in Norton, when,
one beautiful evening in June, the old stage rattled up to the Wings'
front gate, and from it alighted Uncle Christopher Bangs.

"Halloo, Mark!" sung out the old gentleman, catching sight of his
grandnephew almost the first thing. "How are you, my boy? Sakes alive,
but you're looking well! Seems as if Maine air was the correct thing
for Floridy boys, eh?"

"Yes, indeed, 'Uncle Christmas,'" replied Mark, as he ran out to meet
the dear old man, "Maine air is the very thing for this Florida boy, at
any rate."

"So it is, so it is," chuckled Uncle Christopher. "Wal, I suppose
you're all ready to go to work now, eh?"

"To be sure I am, uncle; ready to begin right off."

"That's right, that's right; but s'posing we just look in on Mrs. Wing
first, and see what she's got for supper, and then, after sleeping a
bit, and eating again, and sort o' shaking ourselves together, we'll
begin to consider. There ain't nothing to be gained by hurrying and
worrying through the only lifetime we've got in this world, eh?"

The Doctor and Mrs. Wing welcomed Uncle Christopher most warmly, for he
was a