ooms!" he said, waking up after a few minutes. "And we must
get more help, Margaret. Frances--"

"I'll tell Elizabeth first, I think," said Margaret, thoughtfully. "She
has a way of breaking things gradually to Frances, and taking the edge
off them; she is really very clever about it."

"Elizabeth is a treasure," said Mr. Montfort. "So is Frances, of
course, a treasure--only with dragon attachment."

"And as for the room, Uncle John--let me see! Peggy's own room is big
enough for her and Jean, and I am quite sure they would like to be
together. Then there are the two little east rooms that are very
pleasant--or we could give the two Mr. Merryweathers the big nursery."

"That's it!" said Mr. Montfort, decidedly. "Boys like the nursery; it
was made for boys. Nothing breakable in it except the crockery, and
plenty of room for skylarking. Yes, my dear, get the nursery ready for
them--if they come!" he added. "We are counting our chickens in fine
style, Margaret. Suppose we find that Jean is in San Francisco and the
Merryweathers in Alaska."

"Oh, they won't be!" cried Margaret. "They wouldn't have the heart to
spoil our party. I have read about house-parties all my life, and to
think that I am going to have one! Why, it is a fairy tale, Uncle John."

"So it is, my dear; so it is. You are the fairy princess, and I am the
old magician--or the bear, if you like better, that used to be a prince
when he was young."

"The king that used to be a bear would be more like it," said Margaret,
gaily. "How about John Strong, Mr. Montfort?"

"John Strong was a useful fellow!" said her uncle, gravely. "I had a
regard for John; he is getting lazy now, and rheumatic besides, and he
neglects his roses shamefully, but there are still points about John.
Bring me my old hat, and the pruning-shears, and you shall see him in
the flesh, Miss Margaret."

Margaret enjoyed nothing more than what she called a "rose-potter" with
her uncle. He was never weary of tending his favorite flowers, and
handled and spoke of them as if they were real persons. Coming now to
join him, with the great shears, and the faithful old straw hat in
which, as John Strong the gardener, she had first seen the beloved
uncle, she found him bending over a beautiful "La France" with anxious
looks.

"My dear, this lovely person is not looking well to-day. Something is
wrong with her."

"Oh, Uncle, I am sorry. She had her bath last night, I know, for I gave
it to her