“Why, my dear little Gracie, there’s nobody there,” he answered.

“But how can we be sure if we don’t look, Uncle Harold?  Her voice did sound so very real.”

“What is the matter, Gracie dear?” asked a sweet voice, as a beautiful lady came swiftly from the adjoining parlor and laid her soft white hand on the little girl’s head.

“O Grandma Elsie, we heard a woman begging to come in out of the cold, and—­oh there don’t you hear her?”

“Oh let me in, dear good ladies and gentlemen!  I’m freezing, freezing and starving to death!” wailed the voice again.

By this time all the occupants of the other parlor were crowding into this.

“Captain,” said Grandma Elsie, “will you please step to the window and open it?”

“Mother, Cousin Ronald is responsible for it all,” laughed Harold.

“We may as well let Gracie see for herself,” Mrs. Travilla replied in a kindly indulgent tone.

Harold at once stepped to the window, drew back the curtains, raised the sash and threw open the shutters, giving a full view of all the grounds on that side of the house;—­for the clouds had cleared away and the moon was shining down on snowladen trees and shrubs and paths and parterres carpeted with the same; but no living creature was to be seen.

Grace holding fast to her father’s hand, ventured close to the window and sent searching glances from side to side, then with a sigh of relief, said, “Yes, I do believe it was only Cousin Ronald; and I’m ever so glad the woman and her baby are not freezing.”

At that everybody laughed, and timid, sensitive little Grace hid her blushing face on her father’s shoulder, as he sat down and drew her to his side.

“Never mind, darling,” he said soothingly, passing an arm affectionately about her and softly smoothing her curls with his other hand, “it is good natured amusement; we all know what you meant and love you all the better for your tenderness of heart toward the poor and suffering.”

“Yes, dear child, your papa is quite right, and I fear we were not very polite or kind to laugh at your innocent speech,” said Grandma Elsie.

At that instant the tap on the window was repeated, then the voice spoke again, but in cheerful tones.  “Dinna fret ye, bit bonny lassie, I was but crackin’ me jokes.  I’m neither cauld nor hungry, and my bairns grew to be men and women lang syne.”

“There now!  I know it’s Cousin Ronald,” laughed Rosie, “and indeed I should hope he was neither cold nor hungry here in our house.”

“If he is,” said Grandma Elsie, giving the old gentleman a pleasant smile, “we will set him in the warmest corner of the ingleside and order refreshments.”

“I vote that those suggestions be carried out immediately,” said Edward.  “Harold, if you will conduct our kinsman to the aforesaid seat, I will, with mamma’s permission, ring for the refreshments.”