had no idea, sir, we were so near
London, or I'd have had them all awake and ready," said Pierson, who
never had all her ideas in order at once.

There was nothing for it but to wake up, though I was most unwilling to
do so. I was not at all shy, but yet in the humour I was in then I felt
disinclined to make friends with Uncle Geoff, and I wished he hadn't
come to the station himself. He lifted me out, however, very kindly; and
when I found myself standing on the platform, in the light of the lamps,
I could not help looking up at him to see what he was like. I felt
better inclined to like him when he put me down on my feet, for I had
been afraid he was intending to carry me in his arms till he put me into
the cab, and that would have offended me very much.

"Well, Audrey, and are you very tired?" he said kindly.

I looked up at him. He was not very tall, but very strong-looking, and
had rather a stern expression, except when he smiled; but just now he
_was_ smiling. I remembered what mother had said to me about being very
good with Uncle Geoff, and doing all he told me. So I tried to speak
very nicely when I answered him.

"No, thank you, Uncle Geoff, I am not very tired, but I am rather
sleepy; and I think the boys are very sleepy too."

"All right," said Uncle Geoff, "that is a trouble that can soon be
cured. Here nurse," he went on, turning to Pierson, "I'll take Miss
Audrey on with me in my carriage, which is waiting; but there is only
room for two in it. So my man will get a cab for you and the boys and
put the luggage on it."

Pierson was agreeing meekly, but I interfered.

"If you please, Uncle Geoff," I said, "mayn't I stay, and come in the
cab too? I don't like to leave the boys, because mother says I'm
_always_ to take care of them now."

"Miss Audrey, my dear--" began Pierson, in reproof, but Uncle Geoff
interrupted her. He did not seem at all vexed, but rather amused. I did
not like that, I would almost rather he had been vexed.

"Never mind, nurse," he said. "I like children--and grown people too
for that matter--to speak out. Of course you may stay and come in the
cab if you would rather, Audrey. But in that case I fear I shall not see
any more of you to-night. I have one or two serious cases," he went on,
turning to Pierson, "and may be very late of coming home. But no doubt
Mrs. Partridge will make you comfortable, and Audrey here seems a host
in herself. Good-night, little people."

He stoop