I peered through the blinds to see if the other girls had started, I could see him, looking so distressed, and brooding over those two children as if he was their mother, and he seemed so good.  He seemed pleased to see me when I appeared, and coming from such a man, the implied compliment was fully appreciated; everything he said to me seemed a little more worth hearing than if it had come from any man not so good.  Then suddenly your eldest insisted on retailing the result of a conversation he had had with his uncle, and the upshot was that Harry declared himself; he wasn’t romantic a bit, but he was real straightforward and manly, while I was so completely taken aback that I couldn’t think of a thing to say.  Then the impudent fellow kissed me, and I lost my tongue worse than ever.  If I had known anything of his feelings beforehand, I should have been prepared to behave more properly; but—­O Helen, I’m so glad I didn’t know!  I should be the happiest being that ever lived, if I wasn’t afraid that you and your husband might think that I had given myself away too hastily.  As to other people, we will see that they don’t know a word about it for months to come.

“Do write that I was not to blame, and make believe accept me as a sister, because I can’t offer to give Harry up to any one else you may have picked out for him.  “Your sincere friend,

“Alice Mayton.”

Was there ever so delightful a reveille?  All the boyishness in me seemed suddenly to come to the surface, and instead of saying and doing the decorous things which novelists’ heroes do under similar circumstances, I shouted “Hurrah!” and danced into the children’s room so violently that Budge sat up in bed, and regarded me with reproving eyes, while Toddie burst into a happy laugh, and volunteered as a partner in the dance.  Then I realized that the rain was over, and the sun was shining—­I could take Alice out for another drive, and until then the children could take care of themselves.  I remembered suddenly, and with a sharp pang, that my vacation was nearly at an end, and I found myself consuming with impatience to know how much longer Alice would remain at Hillcrest.  It would be cruel to wish her in the city before the end of August, yet I—­

“Uncle Harry,” said Budge, “my papa says ’tisn’t nice for folks to sit down and go to thinkin’ before they’ve brushed their hair mornin’s—­that’s what he tells me.”

“I beg your pardon, Budge,” said I, springing up in some confusion; “I was thinking over a matter of a great deal of importance.”

“What was it—­my goat?”

“No—­of course not.  Don’t be silly, Budge.”

“Well, I think about him a good deal, an’ I don’t think it’s silly a bit.  I hope he’ll go to heaven when he dies.  Do angels have goat-carriages, Uncle Harry?”

“No, old fellow—­they can go about without carriages.”

“When I goesh to hebben,” said Toddie, rising in bed, “Izhe goin’ to have lots of goat-cawidjes an’ Izhe goin’ to tate all ze andjels a widen.”