It was the first time the child had addressed Margaret directly, and the latter hastened to assure her that her morning greeting would do very well indeed. "But, dear children," she cried, "I cannot let you stay here. Indeed, you ought never to have come up; I don't believe Uncle John would like to have you on the roof at all; and it is breakfast-time, and Cousin Sophronia has been a good deal frightened, Susie, at seeing your legs dangling over her window in this fashion."
"We aren't hurting the old roof!" cried boy and girl, in eager self-defence.
"Oh, my dears! It isn't the roof, it's your precious necks, that you might be breaking at this moment. How are you going to get back? Basil, it makes me dizzy to look at you."
"Then I wouldn't look," said Basil, cheerfully. "I'm all right, Cousin Margaret, just truly I am. Why, I just live on roofs, every chance I get. And this is a bully roof to climb on."
Margaret covered her eyes with her hands, as the boy came tripping along the ridge-pole towards her; but the next moment she put the hands down resolutely. "Let me help you!" she said. "Susan, take my hand, dear, and let me help you in."
But Susan D. needed no helping hand; she scrambled up the slope of the roof like a squirrel, and wriggled in at the window before Margaret could lay hands on her. "I'm all right!" she said, shyly. "I didn't find my stocking, though. I'll get another pair." But Margaret soon found the stocking, and in due time could report to Cousin Sophronia that the children were both safe on the ground, and more or less ready for breakfast. Merton had not shared in the roof expedition; he had climbed the great chestnut-tree instead, and appeared at breakfast with most of the buttons off his jacket, and a large barn-door tear in his knickerbockers.
Miss Sophronia greeted the children with firmness. "How do you do, my dears?" she said. "I am your Cousin Sophronia, and I shall take the place of a mamma to you while you are here. If you do as I tell you, we shall get on very well, I dare say. You are Basil? Yes, you look like your Uncle Reuben. You remember Reuben, John? What a troublesome boy he was, to be sure! And this is Merton. H'm! Yes! The image of his father. Anthony; to be sure! And what is your name, child? Susan D.? Ah, yes! For your Aunt Susan, of course. And are you a good girl, Susan D.?"
Susan D. hung her head, and looked defiant.
"Always answer when you are spoken to," said the lady, with mild severity. "I'm afraid your father has let you run wild; but we will alter all that. Little boy—Merton, I mean, you are taking too much sugar on your porridge. Too much sugar is very bad for children. Hand me the bowl, if you please. I am obliged to take a good deal of sugar—the doctor's orders! There are one—two—three buttons off your jacket. This will never do!"
"I scraped 'em off, shinning up the tree," said Merton, sadly. "I barked all my shins, too; but I found the squirrel's nest."