At this moment a housemaid came up to say there were visitors in the drawing-room.
"It is your two uncles from India," said Aunt Lucy, taking Bobbie's reluctant hand. "They have come on purpose to see you, so you must leave the guinea-pigs for a minute—Jerry can stay with them, and come down as soon as you return."
Bobbie departed groaning, while the under-nurse good-naturedly made up the fire, and began to dry the guinea-pigs with an old duster.
In a few minutes Bobbie returned, his fat round face red with the exertion of scrambling upstairs, his brown eyes sparkling.
"What are they like?" enquired Jerry, who was not fond of visitors, as Anne brushed at her curly hair, and tried in vain to flatten it to the nursery regulation of smoothness.
"Oh, two middle-aged, light gentlemen," replied Bobbie carelessly. "One gave me a shilling to buy a guinea-pig, so now I'm quite safe in telling James to bring them on Friday." And Bobbie seated himself before the fire with Habbakuk and Funnel on his knees, and rubbed away at them vigorously.
Jerry retired downstairs, but reappeared in a very short time—rushing into the room again like a whirlwind.
"What do you think the uncles have promised us, Bobbie?" she cried excitedly; "guess the most beautifullest thing you can possibly think of!"
"Guin——" commenced Bobbie, and checked himself hastily.
"Certainly not!" said Jerry, with decision. "I said I must run up and tell you, you'd be so wild with joy; it begins with a 'P'—but it isn't 'pig.' Now guess again."