actly which is
himself and which is the other, so they don't have real scraps, just
puppy-play, rolling over and over and pounding each other."

"Oh, what good times they would have with Basil and Susan D.!" cried
Margaret. "What a pity they cannot know one another, all these dear
boys!"

"So it is! so it is!" said Mr. Montfort, heartily. "We must bring it
about, one of these days; we must surely bring it about. Fond of dogs,
Hugh? I've got a pair of nice puppies here; like to go and see them
before tea, or shall Margaret show you your room?"

Hugh elected in favor of the puppies, and uncle and nephew walked off
together, well content. Margaret looked after them, thinking what a
noble pair they made. Hugh walked lame, to be sure, yet not
ungracefully, she thought; and though slender, still his shoulders were
square and manly.

Then her thoughts turned to matters of practical hospitality, and she
sped to the kitchen, to tell the good news to Frances.

"Oh, Frances, Mr. Hugh has come, my Uncle Jim's son; Miss Peggy's
brother, Frances! He has come all the way from Ohio, and I want you to
give him the very best supper that ever was, please!"

Now Frances had that moment discovered that her best porcelain saucepan
was cracked; she therefore answered with some asperity. "Indeed, then,
Miss Margaret, what is good enough for Mr. Montfort must be good enough
for his nephew or any other young gentleman. My supper is all planned,
and I can't be fashed with new things at this time of day."

"Now, Frances, don't be cross, that's a dear! I want you to see Mr.
Hugh. Look, there he is this minute, crossing the green with Uncle
John."

Frances looked; looked again, long and earnestly; then straightway she
fell into a great bustle. "Dear me, Miss Margaret, run away now, that's
a good young lady. How can I be doing, and you all about the kitchen
like a ball of string? He's lame, the beautiful young gentleman; you
never told me he was lame. I did think as how we might be doing with the
cold fowl, and French fried potatoes and muffins, but that's nothing to
show the heart. Run away now, Miss, and if you was going up-stairs, be
so good as send me Polly. She's idling her time away, I'll be bound, and
not a soul to help me with my salad and croquettes. Dear! dear! I be
pestered out of my life, mostly."

"Don't kill us, Frances!" cried Margaret, as she ran away, laughing. "I
really think the cold fowl will be quite enough."

France