od or evil; for
all that he says must be held good; for he may
not change his word nor revoke it."

"Oh, but I shouldn't like that, Uncle John!" cried Margaret. "I
shouldn't like that at all! Should you?"

"I don't think it would be agreeable," Mr. Montfort admitted. "But when
we come to anything we don't like, we can suppose that Sir John
was--shall we call it embroidering? And how does my girl feel now? Are
the wrinkles smoothing out at all?"

"All smooth!" replied the girl. "All gone, Uncle John. I was only a
little tired; and--Uncle John--"

"Yes, dear child."

"You must expect that I shall do a great many wrong things, at first. I
am very ignorant, and--well, not very old, perhaps. If only I can make
the children love me!"

"They'd better love you," said Uncle John. "If they don't, they'll get
the stick. But don't fret, Margaret; I am not going to fret, and I shall
not let you do it. The little girl seems slightly abnormal, at first
sight; but the boys--"

"Yes, Uncle John?" and Margaret raised her head and looked eagerly at
her uncle, hoping for some light that would make all clear to her. "The
boys?"

"Why, the boys are just boys, my dear; nothing in the world but plain
boys. Two of 'em instead of four,--thank your stars that you are in
this generation instead of the last, my love; and now take this little
head off to bed, and don't let another anxious thought come into it.
Good night, my child."

CHAPTER IX.

A NEWCOMER.

"If you please, Miss Margaret, the lady would like to speak to you, in
her room."

"Miss Montfort?" (Elizabeth never would call Miss Sophronia Miss
Montfort.) "Yes, Elizabeth, I will be up in a moment; tell her, please."

Hastily pinning her collar,--it was near breakfast-time, and she had
been longer than usual in dressing,--Margaret ran up to the Blue Room.
Miss Sophronia, in curl-papers and a long, yellow wrapper, was standing
near the window, apparently rigid with horror.

"What is it, Cousin Sophronia? What can I do for you?"

"Margaret, I told you,--I warned you. I warned John Montfort. No one can
say that I neglected my duty in this respect; my conscience is clear.
Now look,--I desire you, look out of that window, and tell me what you
think."

Margaret looked. At first she saw nothing but the clear glass, and,
beyond it, the blue sky and waving trees. But, looking again, she became
aware of two objects dangling over the upper part of the pan