g save fresh flowers in the vases, and fresh ribbons on the
curtains. But the boys were to have the old nursery, the great room that
ran across the whole width of the house, on the third floor. It was a
pleasant room, with dormer windows facing east and south, a great
fireplace, with a high wire fender, and a huge sofa, covered with red
chintz dragons. A funny sofa it was, with little drawers let in along
the sides. John Montfort and his brothers used to lie on this sofa, when
they had the measles and whooping-cough, and play with the brass
drawer-handles, and keep their treasures in the drawers. The windows
were barred, and there was a gate across the landing, at the top of the
stairs. Elizabeth had suggested taking away the gate and the bars, "such
big young gentlemen as these would be, most likely, sir!" but Mr.
Montfort shook his head very decidedly.

"If they are Montfort boys, Elizabeth, they will need all the bars we
can give them. Master Richard was twelve, when he squeezed himself
between these, and went along the gutter hanging by his hands, till he
came to the spout, and shinned down it. Never make things too easy for a
Montfort boy!"

In one corner stood a huge rocking-horse, with saddle and bridle of
crimson leather, rather the worse for wear. He was blind of one eye, and
his tail had seen service, but he was a fine animal for all that.
Margaret hunted about in the attic, and found a box of ninepins.
Marbles, too; Uncle John had told her that there must be marbles
somewhere, in a large bag of flowered purple calico, with a red string.
They had been there forty years; they must be there still. She found
them at last, hanging from a peg of one of the great beams. On the beam
close by was written:

"This is my Peg. If any Pig touches my Peg,
that Pig will be Pegged. Signed, JOHN MONTFORT."

"Oh," thought Margaret, "what a pleasant boy Uncle John must have been!
What good times we should have had together!" And then she reflected
that he could not possibly have been so nice a boy as he was an uncle,
and was content.

The marbles, and the rocking-horse, and--what else ought there to be?
Tops! Uncle John had said something about tops. Here Margaret screamed,
and fled to the attic door. Something was moving on the beam by which
she had been standing, perched on a chair. Something rolled slowly
along, half the length of the beam, and dropped to the floor and rolled
towards her. Laughing now, M