"I can't say; it is not improbable, but at all events, you'd best not go back there. Mrs. Sullivan will keep you till you are ready to take your journey, I am sure."
"Sylvy can go in with me," Uncle Heath said. "She knows where your traps are, I suppose, and she can help Mrs. Murdoch to get them ready for you. Your mamma said all your toys and such things of yours as might be in the way, were to be locked up in your little house in the yard."
"Oh,"—Eleanor exclaimed, and then stopped short.
"What's the matter?" asked her uncle.
"Why, Donald has that, and it's so dirty and battered up out there."
"How is that? What is Donald doing out there? Did your mamma say he was to use your playhouse?"
Eleanor explained, and Uncle Heath's eyes snapped as he said, "We'll let Sylvy go in and clean it up; then she can carry back your belongings and set them in place. I'll have a Yale lock put on the door and the windows boarded up. I have a letter from your mamma in which she tells exactly what is to be done, and there will be no trouble in carrying out her wishes, I think."
"Uncle Heath, you are a darling, but I wish you'd do just one thing more."
"And what is that?"
"Let Rock come home from boarding-school; he isn't having a bit of a nice time."