“Why don’t you open it?” asked bright-eyed Daisy; “then you won’t have to think.”
“To be sure, little wisdom!” and papa smiled. “I will look over this thin one first, though.”
That was only an invitation to a meeting of the clergy. We were all watching to see him open the letter par excellence. He took out his penknife and cut round the seal, which he handed to Tim.
“W—h—y!” lengthening the word out indefinitely. “From Stephen Duncan!” Then he read on in thoughtful silence, now and then knitting his brows.
Mamma’s letters were from an aunt and a cousin, with some kindly messages for us all.
“Girls,” said father, with a sudden start, “would you like to have some brothers large enough to keep their hands and faces clean, and strong enough to help you garden?”
“Boys are a nuisance!” declared Nell.
“Well, I have an offer of two. One is something of an invalid, though. My wards, I suppose, for that matter; though I have never considered myself much of a guardian, since Stephen was old enough to look after the boys. Then I always thought their uncle, James Duncan, was annoyed at my being put in at all. It seems he died very suddenly, a month ago, in London. Stephen has to go over and settle his affairs, and he wants me to keep the boys. Rose, pass this letter up to your mother.”
“How old are they?” asked Fan.
“Well, I can’t say. Louis is ready to enter college, but has studied himself out, and will have to go to the country. Stuart is—a boy, I suppose. I have not seen them since their father died.”