grown up; you will see to the others. Do what you can to make them
happy--a little treat if necessary; I should not mind it."

"Give us fourpence to buy a pound of golden syrup for tea, please,
Padre," suddenly said Briar. "If there is a thing I love, it is golden
syrup. A pound between us will give us quite a feast--won't it, Renny?"

"Only we must save a little for the aunt," cried Patty.

"I do hope one thing," said Pauline: "that, whatever her faults, she
won't be greedy. There isn't room for any one to be greedy in this house.
The law of this house is the law of self-denial; isn't it, Padre?"

"I begin to perceive that it is, Pauline. But whom are you talking of?"

"Now, Padre," said Verena, "if you don't wake and rouse yourself, and act
like a decent Christian, you'll be just prodded--you'll be just shaken.
We will do it. There are eight of us, and we'll make your life a burden."

"Eh--eh!" said Mr. Dale. "Really, girls, you are enough to startle a man.
And you say----"

"I say, Paddy, that Miss Sophia Tredgold is on her way here. Each instant
she is coming nearer. She is coming in the old pony cart, and the old
pony is struggling with all his might to convey her here. She is coming
with her luggage, intending to stay, and our object is to get her to go
away again. Do you hear, Padre?"

"Yes, my dear, I hear. I comprehend. It takes a great deal to bring a man
back down the ages--down--down to this small, poor, parsimonious life; it
takes a great deal. A man is not easily roused, nor brought back; but I
am back now, darlings.--Excuse me, Briar; no more prodding.--Hands off,
Pauline.--Hands off, Patty. Perhaps I had better tidy myself."

"You certainly would look nicer, and more like the owner of The Dales, if
you got into your other coat," said Briar.

"Shall we all come up and help you, Padre?" called out the eight in a
breath.

"No, no, dears. I object to ladies hovering about my room. I'll run away
now."

"Yes, yes; and you'd better be quick, Padre, for I hear wheels."

"I am going, loves, this moment."

Mr. Dale turned and absolutely ran to the shelter of the house, for the
wheels were getting near--rumbling, jumping, uncertain. Now the rumbling
and the jumping and the uncertainty got into the avenue, and came nearer
and nearer; and finally the tumble-down pony cart drew up at the house.
The pony printed his uncertain feet awkwardly but firmly on the
weed-grown sweep in front of the unpainted h