to take," Mrs. Martin said. "I can't imagine what he really has,
but we'll soon find out."

On and on they rode in the automobile, until, after a while, they reached
the small city of Pocono and, a little later, they pulled up in front of
Uncle Toby's house. It was a rambling, old mansion that once had looked
very nice, but now it was rather shabby and needed painting.

"Here is where Uncle Toby lives," said Daddy Martin. "Do you children
remember it?"

"A little," admitted Ted. Neither he nor Janet had been there in years,
and Trouble had never visited Uncle Toby.

"I wonder if he's at home," went on Daddy Martin, as he alighted from the
automobile.

"There's someone on the porch," said Mrs. Martin. "Oh, it's Mrs. Watson,
the housekeeper," she added. "But something seems to be the matter! I
wonder what can have happened?"

As Mother Martin spoke a queer little old lady came down off the porch
and along the walk, hurrying out to meet the Curlytops, all of whom were
now at the front gate.

"Wait! Don't go in! Don't go in!" cried the queer old lady, holding up
her hand like a traffic policeman stopping a fast automobile. "Don't go
in! They're having a terrible time! Oh, that Mr. Bardeen ever should have
gone away and left me to look after 'em! Oh, the trouble I have had! Such
trouble! Don't go in! Listen to 'em!"

As she spoke there came strange sounds from the grim old house where
Uncle Toby lived! Very strange sounds!

CHAPTER IV

UNCLE TOBY'S PETS

"Listen to that noise!" called Teddy, pausing with his hand on the gate
that led into Uncle Toby's yard. "It's two boys having fun. I guess Uncle
Toby left two fellows that you can take home and I can have fun with,"
Teddy added laughingly to his father.

"Two boys! Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin.

Just then a shrill scream sounded from within the queer, old house.

"It's girls!" said Janet. "Girls cry just like that when they're having
fun! Oh, I'll be glad to have a sister to play with!"

Mr. and Mrs. Martin looked at each other in surprise and wonderment. What
could it mean? The queer, little old lady--Mrs. Watson, the
housekeeper--murmured again:

"Listen to 'em! I can't do a thing with 'em since Uncle Toby went away.
I'm so glad you came to take charge of 'em as he asked you to. You did
come for that, didn't you?" she asked eagerly. "You got Uncle Toby's
letter, asking you to come and take charge of the collection he left,
didn't yo