Frank came into the garden with a rush and a run when he heard the girls call out.  A fishing basket was slung over his back, from which the tails of fish stuck out, showing what good sport he had had.

“Hillo, Ara!  Hillo, Pansy!  What are you dancing and ‘hoo-laying’ about?  Been stung by a wasp, my little Pansy Blossom?”

“Oh, Frank,” cried the elder girl, “look through the glass!  Uncle’s coming!  Look at the ship, and all the flags.”

The boy was almost as excited now as the girls themselves, and presently they were all running in a string through the pretty garden towards the cottage with the news, Veevee bringing up the rear and barking bravely.

* * * * *

Rat-tat-tat at the door next afternoon, and little Pansy ran to open it, expecting to see the postman, but the knocking was only a bit of Tom’s fun.  Frank had left for Hull the evening before to meet him, and here was Tom the sailor, tall and bonny and dark.  Pansy jumped into his arms like a baby, Aralia rushed to meet him, and his mother came out, though a little more slowly.  When the bustle was all over, and Tom had answered nearly a hundred questions, they all went in to tea.

“Yes, Aralia, Uncle is coming up from Hull with Father and Cousin Frank, and we shall stop here three whole days before we go back to clear ship and pay off”

“And,” added Tom, “Uncle has something so strange and nice to tell you!”

“What is it, Tom?” said his two sisters, both in a breath as it were.

“I can’t, won’t, and sha’n’t tell you, girls,” cried Tom, laughing, “because that would spoil the fun when Uncle comes.”

So all, even Veevee, who would not get off Tom’s knees for a minute, had to be as patient as they could.  But the time passed so quickly, listening to all this hearty young sailor had to tell of his voyage to the far north, that before anyone was aware it was nearly seven o’clock.

And now down jumps Veevee and runs towards the door, barking aloud as if he were a very big dog.

“They’re coming!  They’re coming!  Veevee knows!” And coming they were indeed.

Tom had had a hearty welcome when he arrived, but when this best of uncles at last managed to sit down on the sofa:  “Shiver my timbers, sister,” he said to Mrs. Dunlop, “if it isn’t worth while going all the way to the back of the North Pole just to get such a welcome home as this.”

Jack Staysail was a sailor every inch of him.  He had roughed it so much in the Greenland seas, and been out in so many storms, that his face was as red as a boiled beet; but his eyes were as full of fun and merriment as a boy’s.

“We’re not all here yet,” he said.  “I have asked my friend, Professor Peterkin, the Swede, to come in to-night with his mastiff.”  When their uncle mentioned the mastiff, Aralia and Pansy began to tremble for Veevee, but Tom only laughed.