"What did we not do?" said Nessa. "Peggy scrubbed and brushed and polished, and I dusted and arranged, and pushed the furniture about. First I was going to settle it a little by myself, and then Mrs. Donegan came up and sent Peggy to help me."
"Well, I call this very jolly," said Winnie, who had thrown herself into a chair, and was looking round with a beaming countenance. "Doesn't it seem to you just a little bit like when we were at home, Murtagh?"
"Yes," said Murtagh, slowly. "Only it isn't papa, you know."
"That reminds me," said Nessa, as she rang the bell for tea. "Who are Cousin Jane and Emma, or Emily and Frankie? because I saw Uncle Blair for a minute at lunch time, and he said they were coming to stay here."
"Frankie coming!" exclaimed the children in delight.
"Oh, I am so glad!" continued Winnie. "He is such a dear little fellow, only he is so delicate; he is as old as Murtagh, really, but you wouldn't think he is more than seven or eight years old, and he's not a bit strong. Often we have to carry him just like Ellie; two of us put our hands together, you know."
"He's just the very best little fellow that ever was," said Murtagh, warmly. "Now he really is good. I don't know how he manages; he never even wants to do anything—I mean things he oughtn't to. I suppose he was just born so."
"I wish he was coming alone," said Bobbo.
"Why?" asked Nessa.
"Oh!" replied Murtagh, "because Emma's a prig, and Cousin Jane—well, Cousin Jane is a nuisance. Isn't she now, Rosie?"