'Yes, papa; and, one thing more, may I do that bit of Cæsar that you offered the half-crown for? I didn't care about doing it the other day, but I should like to, now.'

'You may do it, certainly. I am glad you wish to—without help, mind—and I will look over it as soon as I have time. Well, Honorius,' as his elder son drew near, 'have you something to ask too?'

Honorius's errand was to obtain his father's sanction for the changes they were making in the desert. Dr. Campbell smiled as he heard their plans. 'It would take two men's hard labour to put that place in order,' he said; 'I don't think you'll be able to do it.'

'Papa, you don't know what seven Campbells can do!' said Willie in a tone of triumphant heroism.

'Seven! What! have you pressed Georgie into the service? Well, good luck to you all, it'll be a nice amusement for you; you can't do much harm, at any rate.'

He left them and hastened up to his wife's room, but Willie ran after him to beg that the plan might be kept a secret from her. Dr. Campbell readily promised secrecy, but the boys were disappointed that he had not seemed more delighted with their scheme.

'If papa thinks it's nonsense, there's no use going on with it,' said Honorius moodily.

'Yes, there is,' said Willie; 'it'll show him what we can do. He thinks it nonsense, because he doesn't know how hard we mean to work, and how steadily we'll keep on at it. It'll be such fun when he sees we can do a great deal more than he thinks!'

Honorius allowed himself to be convinced by this reasoning, and went with Willie and Seymour to the desert to work away till it got near three o'clock, at which time he had to return to school. Johnnie worked steadily at Cæsar till he heard his father go out, and then went up-stairs softly and tapped at his mother's door. Her 'come in' was glad and eager, and a soft pink colour flushed into her cheeks when she saw it was really Johnnie. This good mother, so just and tender to all her sons, kept a special corner of her heart for the merry scapegrace who excelled the family cat in a talent for unintentional mischief, and almost equalled that luckless animal in a facility for getting into universal disgrace. In another minute Johnnie was squatted on a footstool by the side of her sofa, holding her thin white hands in his own, and sometimes kissing them with a pretty devotion, which, mother-like, she thought very charming, though she pretended to call it 'silly.'

'And how is my Johnnie getting on at school?' she asked presently. 'Whereabouts in the class are you now? At the top, I hope!'