“Get away!” cried Joel crossly to the besiegers, each and all wildly clamoring.  “What is it?  What are you talking about?  It’s my secret,” he cried, “and his,” pointing with a dismayed finger to Mr. King.

“Well, it isn’t a secret any longer,” cried Polly, flushing with excitement.  “You said ‘little brown house,’ we heard you just as plainly; and you re getting up something, I know you are.”  “People don’t usually select a roomful of listeners, and then shout out their secrets,” said Jasper.  “You are in for it now, Joe, and no mistake.  Go ahead, old fellow, and give us the rest of it.”

Joel whirled away from them all in desperation.  “You might as well,” laughed the old gentleman, “the mischief is done now, and no mistake.”

So Joel, thus set upon, allowed the whole beautiful plan to be wrung from him, by slow and torturing installments; how they all were to go to Badgertown, open the little brown house, and stay there—­here he glanced at Mr. King—­“perhaps a week,” he brought out suddenly, filling the time with all sorts of frolics, and playing they were there again, and really and truly living in the old home.

At last it was all out, to be received in different ways by the listeners.

“Oh, Joe!” cried Davie with shining eyes.  “We never could come away again if we once get there, never!”

Polly stood quite still, a mist gathering before her glad eyes, out of which she dimly saw the little brown house arise and beckon to her.

Phronsie jumped up and down and clapped her hands in glee.  “Oh, Grandpapa, Grandpapa!” she screamed, “please take us to the little brown house, please!”

That settled it.  “I do not think we need to consider it longer,” said Mr. King, glancing at Ben, whose face told what he thought, “children, we will go—­that is, if Mrs. Pepper says yes.

“I will ask her,” cried Joel with a howl, springing off.

“Come on,” cried Jasper, “let’s all ‘be in at the death.’” And the library was deserted in a twinkling.

But mother was nowhere to be found.  “Upstairs, downstairs, and in the lady’s chamber,” they sought her wildly.

“Oh!  I forgot,” exclaimed Polly, when at last they gathered in the wide hall, disposing themselves on the chairs and along the stairs, all tired out.  “She has gone to evening meeting with Auntie.  How stupid of me not to remember that.”

“Well, I declare!” cried a voice above them, and looking up they met the cold blue eyes of Mrs. Chatterton regarding them over the railing.  “Cousin Horatio, do you keep a menagerie, or a well-ordered house, I beg to inquire?”

“A menagerie,” said Mr. King coolly, leaning on the balustrade at the foot of the stairs, and looking up at her.  “All sorts of strange animals wander in here, Cousin.”

“Hum; I understand.  I’m not so dull as you think.  Well, you’ve changed, let me tell you, vastly, and not for the better either, in the last six years.  Who would ever suppose I see before me fastidious Horatio King!” she exclaimed, lifting her long thin hands to show him their horror-stricken palms.