art and hand it over; however, his face was so wistful that she
answered, impulsively: "He can belong to all of us!"

"Where's Isobel?" cried Uncle Johnny, looking around.

Isobel had been listening from the turn of the stairway. She had really
wanted, more than anything else, to race down the stairs and throw
herself in Uncle Johnny's arms. (He was certain to have some pretty gift
for her concealed in one of his pockets.) But she must show the others
that _she_ would stick to her word. So, in answer to his call, she
walked slowly down the stairway, with a smile that carefully included
only Uncle Johnny.

Jerry thought that she had never in her whole life seen anyone quite as
pretty as Isobel! She stared, fascinated. To Uncle Johnny's introduction
she answered awkwardly, uncomfortably conscious that Isobel's eyes were
unfriendly. She wished, with all her heart, that Isobel would say
something nice, but Isobel, after a little nod, turned back to her
uncle.

"Gyp, take Jerry to her room. Graham, carry her bags up," directed Mrs.
Westley.

"Pepper, too?" cried Tibby.

But Pepper had dashed up the stairs, and had turned at the landing and,
standing again on his hind legs, had barked. Even Mrs. Westley laughed.
"Pepper's answering that question himself," she replied. She turned to
Uncle Johnny. "If it comes to a choice between Mrs. Hicks and that dog I
plainly see Mrs. Hicks will have to go."

John Westley declared he had not known how "good" it would feel to get
"home" again. Though he really lived in an apartment a few blocks away,
he had always looked upon his brother's house as home and spent the
greater part of his leisure time there. Mrs. Westley ordered tea. Uncle
Johnny slipped Isobel's hand through his arm and followed Mrs. Westley
into the cheery library.

Above, Jerry was declaring that her room was just "wonderful." She ran
from one window to another to gaze rapturously out over the neighboring
housetops. The brick, wall-enclosed court below, with its iron gate
letting into an alleyway, was to her an enchanted battlement!

Graham's trophies, Tibby's dolls, Isobel's drawing tools had
disappeared; a little old-fashioned white wooden bed had been put up in
one corner; its snowy linen cover, with woven pink roses in orderly
clusters, gave it an inviting look; there was a pink pillow in the deep
chair in the bay-window; a round table stood near the chair; on it were
some of Gyp's books and a little work-bas