argaret stooped and picked up a great ball,
a leather ball, striped red and black. On one of the red stripes was
written, in large, unconventional letters, "Roger." It was her father's
ball! Margaret held the toy very tenderly in her hands, and tried to see
the worn, thoughtful face she remembered so well, a rosy boy's face,
full of light and laughter. She had seen, yesterday, strangely enough,
her uncle's boyish looks, revealed in a flash of mischief; it was less
easy to see her father's.

As she stood meditating, the sound of wheels was heard outside. Margaret
ran to look out of the little gable window, then clapped her hands
together, in amazement and pleasure. The children had come!

When she reached the verandah, they were already standing there, facing
Mr. Montfort, who had come out by an early train, and was standing
looking at them with amused attention, holding the little girl's hands
in his.

"And what are your names, my dears?" he was saying.

"Basil, Merton, and Susan D.," replied the elder boy, promptly, while
three pairs of sharp eyes were fastened on the strange uncle.

"Battle, Murder, and Sudden Death!" said Mr. Montfort under his breath.
He had no idea that any one could hear him, but a shriek of laughter
startled him, and made Margaret jump.

"That's what Puppa calls us!" cried Basil, springing lightly up and down
on the tips of his toes. "We didn't know whether you would or not; he
said you would pretty soon, anyhow. How do you do, Uncle John? We are
very well, thank you. I am thirteen, and Mert is twelve, and Susan D. is
ten. Puppa hopes we shall not be troublesome, and here are the keys of
the trunks."

The boy drew a long breath, and looked round him with an air of triumph.

"Well, I should think you would know it!" said his brother. "Been saying
it all the way over here."

"More than you could do!" retorted his elder.

"Wouldn't do it anyhow, so there!" said the younger.

[Illustration: "THE LITTLE GIRL HAD NEVER STIRRED, BUT STOOD GAZING UP
AT THE BIG MAN WHO HELD HER HANDS."]

These last remarks had been carried on in an undertone, the set speech
having been delivered slowly and with much dignity. Finally each boy
kicked the other's shins surreptitiously, and then both stared again at
their uncle. The little girl had never stirred, but stood gazing up at
the big man who held her hands so lightly and yet so kindly, and who had
such bright, deep, quiet brown eyes. Margaret, standing