"And we must have nothing that is noisy, on account of old Mrs. Presgrave! No fun! I shall almost be glad to get back to school again," cried Louis, "we are so moped up here!"
For want of something better to do, Willy, quietly seated in the corner, was cutting a round hole in his drum; a box of paints lay on the table, with which Bella had been daubing, certainly not adorning, the plates in the last book which her uncle had given her. There was a broken draughts-board under the table, but half of the draughtsmen were lost, and Tom and Louis, who had taken to chess, were beginning to quarrel over the game.
"I'll move there—check!" cried the former, putting down his queen with an air of triumph.
In a moment an ambushed red knight pounced down upon the square, and the white queen was in the hand of Louis.
"I'll take back that move. I did not see."
"Oh! But your hand was off!" shouted Louis. "That's not fair!"
"It's all fair!" cried the boy, reddening with excitement, and holding his trophy behind him. In a moment sport would have been exchanged for anger—perhaps for blows—when the door was gently opened, and an aged gentleman with silvery hair, and a stoop which told of years and weakness, but a bright cheerful smile, like sunshine in winter, entered the room and joined the party. In a moment the angry voices were stilled, young Willy pushed aside his drum, Bella sprang from the table, and all joyfully welcomed the old man.
"What are you all doing? How are you all amusing yourselves, my young friends?" he said, after a short pause, without appearing to notice the sounds of strife which had attracted him to the room.
"Doing, uncle? Why, nothing," said little Julia, running to him, and gently leading him to his armchair. It may be remarked, by the way, that all the children addressed Mr. Presgrave as uncle, though Tom and Willy alone were his nephews, the rest of the young people now at Ivy Lodge being on a visit to the family.
Perhaps my young reader would like to be introduced to the little party now assembled in the play-room together. That tall boy with the dark eyes, and nut-brown complexion, and large heavy frame, is Tom; and there is his more lithe and active brother Willy, with his great earnest eyes now open wide with attention, now sparkling with merriment and fun. Julia Merton is their cousin, an only child, but one who finds brothers and sisters in every boy and girl who knows her. Her smile tells of a light and joyous spirit, a cheerfulness not readily to be damped, a temper not easily provoked—she is the darling and plaything of all.