, and proclaiming herself aloud to be the highly
theatrical personage described above, she would have opened her eyes in
gentle and rather scornful amazement. But Margaret was learning many
things in these days, and among them the art of being a child. Her life
had been mostly spent with older people; she had never known till now
the rapture of being a little girl, a little boy. Now, seeing it in
these bright faces, that never failed to grow brighter at sight of her,
she felt the joy reflected in her own face, in her own heart; and it was
good to let all the quiet, contained maiden ways go, once in a while,
and just be a child with the children, or a Flail of the Desert, as in
the present instance.

John Montfort, leaning on the gate, watched the pretty play, well
pleased. "They have done her all the good in the world," he said to
himself. "It isn't only what she has done for them, bless her, but for
her, too, it has been a great thing. I was selfish and stupid to think
that a young creature could go on growing to fulness, without other
young creatures about it. How will she feel, I wonder, about their
going? How would she like--"

[Illustration: "THE 'FLAIL OF THE DESERT.'"]

At this moment he was discovered by Basil, who charged him with a joyous
shout. "Oh, here is Uncle John! Oh, Uncle John, don't you want to be
Saladin, please? Here's Merton has hurt his leg and gone off in a sulk,
and I'll get you a scimitar in a minute--it's the old sickle, and Willis
says it's so rusty you can't really do much mischief with it; and
here's the Hermit of Engedi, you know, and he can shout--"

But, alas, for the Lion-hearted! When he turned to summon his hermit, he
saw no flying figure, brandishing a walking-stick and crying aloud, but
a demure young lady, smoothing her hair hurriedly and shaking out the
folds of her dress, as she hastened to meet her uncle.

"Bravo!" said Uncle John. "But why did you stop, Meg? It wouldn't have
been the first time I had played Saladin, I assure you!"

"Oh, uncle! I am really too much out of breath to play any more. And
besides, it is near tea-time, and the children must go and get ready. I
will come in a moment, Susan dear, and do your hair. Are there any
letters, Uncle John? Oh, two, from the girls; how perfectly delightful!
Oh, I must run up, but we'll read them after tea, shall we, Uncle John?"

"With all my heart, my dear; and I have a letter, too, about which I
shall want to consult yo