ard times. I guess I'm a pretty
lucky girl, Margaret. Now I must go and get
mother's supper. Give lots and lots of love to
Uncle John, and some to Elizabeth and Frances,
and say--I can't spell it, but the Spanish
thing I learned--to poor Chiquito. But most
love of all to your own, dear, darling self,
Margaret, from

"PEGGY."

Mr. Montfort curled his moustaches in silence for some minutes, when the
reading was over.

"Dear little girl!" he said at last. "Good little Peggy! So she will
learn to cook, will she? And she is getting hold of her mother! This is
as it should be, Margaret, eh?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Margaret. "Oh, Uncle John, this letter makes me feel so
happy about the child. At first, you know, she missed us all more than
she should have,--really. And--and I think that, except for Hugh,
perhaps they did not receive her in quite the way they might have,
laughing at her a good deal, and sneering when she tried to make little
improvements. I don't mean Aunt Susan or Uncle James, but the younger
children, and George, who must be--whom I don't fancy, somehow. And she
has been so brave, and has tried so hard to be patient and gentle. I
think our Peggy will make a very fine woman, don't you, uncle?"

"I do, my love. I have a great tenderness for Peggy. When she is at
school, she must come here for her vacations, or some of them, at
least."

"And she owes this all to you!" cried Margaret, with shining eyes. "If
she had never come here, Uncle John, I feel as if she might have grown
up--well, pretty wild and rough, I am afraid. Oh, she ought to love you,
and she does."

"Humph!" said Mr. Montfort, dryly. "Yes, my dear, she does, and I am
very glad of the dear little girl's love. But as for owing it all to me,
why, Margaret, there may be two opinions about that. Well, and what says
our Bird of Paradise?"

"Rita? Oh, uncle, I don't know what you will think of this letter."

"Don't read it, my dear, if you think it is meant for you alone. You can
tell me if she is well and happy."

"That is just it, Uncle John. She wants to go to Europe, and her father
does not approve of her going just at present, and so--well, you shall
hear part of it, at any rate.

"Margaret, my Soul!"

"That sounds natural!" said Mr. Montfort. "That is undoubtedly Rita,
Margaret; go on! If you were her soul, my dear, my brother Rich