ut it took more than that to dampen the McGregors'
spirits.

When they had lentil soup, how steaming and delicious it was! When meat
stew, what a dish for the gods! And who could have asked for a greater
treat than a thick slice of Mary's fresh bread coated over with
molasses or peanut butter?

Every month a long blue envelope containing a check from Uncle
Frederick arrived and that, together with what Mary and her mother
earned, kept the household going. But they seldom saw Uncle James
Frederick Dillingham. He was always sailing to India, China, or South
America. Sometimes letters came from him and picture postcards showing
strange countries and people in foreign dress. But the check never
failed to make its appearance and as it was highly important that it
should, everybody agreed that since Uncle Frederick could not come
himself he was almost as satisfactorily represented by this magic bit
of blue paper. The check brought things and perhaps if Uncle Frederick
himself had come he wouldn't. You could not tell about uncles you had
never seen.

In the meantime the blue paper kept stew in the kettle and the shelter
of Mulberry Court above their heads, and what better service could an
uncle render his relatives?

Hence Uncle Frederick's name came to be mentioned constantly in the
household.

"Remember, Timmie, those are your Uncle Frederick Dillingham's rubber
boots and be thankful to him for them," the boy's mother would observe
when she brought home the purchase. Or "Uncle Frederick is presenting
you with those stockings, Carl. See you don't forget it."

And the children did not forget. Gradually their unknown uncle came to
assume in their imagination a form that would have surprised him had he
been suddenly confronted by it. It was that of a benevolent-faced fairy
clad in robes of purple and ermine, and wearing on his head a crown
resplendent with gems of myriad colors. In his hand he carried a
scepter terminating in a star that far outshone the jewels he wore, a
scepter all powerful to work miracles. He was the good angel of the
McGregor home, the Aladdin to whom they owed all sorts of blessings.

And yet withal Uncle James Frederick Dillingham was one and the same
person who sailed the _Charlotte_ to India, China, South America, or
some other ephemeral port. How paradoxical was this dual role, how
alluring and how ridiculous!

CHAPTER II

CARL TELLS A STORY

It was April. Already spring was in th