Mrs. Peyton told at length.  “And what I’m to do with the children,” she said, mournfully, “I don’t know.  Sister doesn’t want them to come.  But here I’m away up North and sister’s out West, and the children couldn’t go home alone.  Besides, there’s nowhere for them to go.  I am their only home.  Dear, dear, what shall I do?”

The front door-bell, ringing sharply, sent Charlotte down-stairs.  At this moment she saw her husband coming up the street in his runabout.  When Doctor Churchill ran into his office after a case of instruments he had forgotten, his wife cast herself into his arms, in such a state of emotion that he held her close, bewildered.

“What on earth is it, dear?” he asked.  “Are you laughing or crying?  Here, let me see your face.”

“O Andy”—­Charlotte would not let her face be seen—­“it’s Cousin Lula!  She’s—­she’s—­oh, she’s—­going away!”

Churchill burst into smothered laughter.  “It can’t be you’re crying,” he murmured.  “Charlotte, I don’t blame you.  Look up and smile.  I know how you must be feeling.  You’ve been a regular heroine all these weeks.”

“I’m awfully ashamed,” choked Charlotte, on his shoulder, “but, O Andy, what it will seem not to have to—­oh, I mustn’t say it, but—­”

“I know, I know!” He patted her shoulder.

“Her sister is ill, in the West somewhere.  She has to go to her at once.  She wants the children to stay with us.”

“She does!”

“Her sister doesn’t want them there, and she can’t send them home.  Andy, I wouldn’t mind that so awfully.  I’d almost like the chance to see what we could do with them.”

“Well, don’t answer definitely till I have time to talk it over with you and with her.  I must go now.”

They talked it over, together, and with Mrs. Peyton.  The result of these conferences was that two days later that lady took her departure, leaving her children in the care of the Churchills.

“On one condition, Cousin Lula,” Doctor Churchill had said to her with decision.  “That you put them absolutely in our care and trust our judgment in the management of them.”

Mrs. Peyton tried to make a few reservations.  Her cousin would have none of them.  At last she submitted, understanding well enough in her heart that Andrew Churchill would be the safest sort of a guardian for her children, and admitting to herself, if she did not to anybody else, that Charlotte would give them care of the sort which money cannot buy.

“That woman gone?” asked Jeff, coming into his sister Celia’s room.  “Well, I’m delighted to hear it.  But I must say I think Charlotte’s taken a good deal of a contract.  I didn’t mind so much about their agreeing to keep Evelyn Lee, for she’s a mighty nice sort of a girl, and will make a still nicer one when she gets strong.  But these Peyton youngsters—­I certainly don’t think taking care of them ought to have been on the bill.  That idiot Lucy—­” His expressive face finished the sentence for him.