Because Cleena fancied that Amy had taken cold, the girl had remained at home that morning, but she now begged to be allowed to return to the mill.
"I want to go and see Mr. Metcalf. He'll be the very one to help Uncle Frederic, if he needs help, and I'd rather tell him the story myself."
"If you go, I will too," said Hallam, quickly. "I'll have no holidays you do not share."
"Nonsense! Your work is 'piece work.' If you get behind at one time, you can make it up at another. The superintendent told me you could soon bring it home to do, if you wished."
"But I shall not wish—not for the present. Let us both go."
Mr. Kaye looked up as if he would remonstrate. Then he took up a western newspaper that their guest had laid down, and began to read. But his children had seen his glance, and interpreted it to themselves by a swift exchange of their own. Amy's eyes spoke to her brother's, as plainly as words:—
"We mustn't leave him alone to-day," and Hallam's had telegraphed back:—
"No, I see that. One of us must stay."
"Well, father, Hal is not half so necessary to the success of Ardsley Mill as I am. He's going to help you mount those sketches this morning, while I hunt up Uncle Frederic, and try to get a 'day off' to visit with him. Cleena must dish up the remains of the yesterday dinner for us, and we'll keep Christmas over again. Isn't it just lovely, lovely, to have one's relatives turn up in this delightful fashion? First, Cousin Archibald, behaving just like other folks; and now this romantic arrival of the long-lost uncle. Good-by. I'll be back as soon as I can."