"Yes—no—thank you, dear—that is—" stammered Auntie Alice, in such painful confusion that, although intensely amused, Major Dene felt obliged to come to her rescue.
"Look here, kids!" he said: "I expect you're bound to know later on, so you may as well be told now. Come, and be introduced to your future new uncle—our new uncle!" he added with a laugh, at the same time leading the little ones up to Dr. King.
"Oh!" exclaimed Joan, drawing a long breath and surveying the doctor with her head sideways, like a fastidious young robin eyeing a crumb. "Is that why you was allus comin' to ask if we had headiks, or stumukiks, or if baby wanted castor-oil, and to look at our tongues? I s'pose uncles is like that. Never had none before," she added, still gazing at the stout, bald-headed gentleman in front of her, as if the honour of being her future relative had invested him with a new personality and lent him fresh interest in her eyes.
"What'll Aunt Catharine do without you?" asked Darby of Auntie Alice somewhat reproachfully, and giving but a limp, indifferent shake to the hand which Dr. King held out as a peace-offering.
Auntie Alice glanced timidly and sadly at her sister, for this was the one bitter drop in her cup of sweetness—this severing of the ties which for years and years had bound the two Misses Turner as closely together as the Siamese twins almost.
"Tush!" cried Aunt Catharine briskly, although there were tears in her eyes. "She's not going out of the country. Beechfield is but a short walk from Firgrove; we can meet every day, if we want to. Besides, I have you children, and your father will be back and forward between this and Denescroft—for a while, anyway," added she, laying a loving hand on Darby's head.
The boy pressed closely to her side; but Joan confidently clambered upon her knee, and laid her golden head against her aunt's shoulder.
"Aunt Catharine has got me," she announced, flinging her arms round that lady's neck, creasing the dainty lace collar, crumpling the delicate lilac ribbons, tumbling the neatly-banded hair. But Aunt Catharine did not seem to mind; in fact, she looked as if she rather enjoyed the feel of those soft little hands upon her face, the pressure of those clinging arms about her neck. "I'll stay wif her allus and allus. I used to like Auntie Alice best, but she's got him," Joan went on, pointing a small pink finger at Dr. King, who, it must be admitted, looked a trifle sheepish at being so frankly and openly sat upon in family council; "so now I's goin' to give the most of the love to Aunt Catharine," she declared, bestowing upon her aunt a shower of hearty kisses. "And I'm never goin' to leave her, never, never—unless," she added thoughtfully, "she gets a doctor man too, by-and-by. Then I'd just have to stay wif daddy."
Darby giggled behind Aunt Catharine's back, and the others laughed heartily.
"What would you say to Scotland?" asked Dr. King, well pleased to get gracefully away from a subject which he had been feeling rather personal. "That would be a change indeed—the very thing after South Africa," he added, looking with a keen professional eye at Major Dene's gaunt cheeks and too sharply outlined profile. "There are some pleasant places on the west coast—bracing, yet not too cold. In my boyhood I spent a summer in a village called St. Aidens. It was out of the way, certainly, but you could not go to a more delightful spot."