The little ones were almost dazed by the suddenness of the thing, and scarcely realized what had happened till they found themselves in the cars alone with their new and unknown guardian. Their Uncle Albert had gone with them to the train, and in bidding them good-by he laid a box of candies in Ethel’s lap, saying, “That is for you and your brother and sisters to eat on the way;” and bestowed a large, luscious orange on each, of the four.
Ethel threw her arms about his neck and held him tight for a moment, while her sobs came thick and fast.
“Oh, Uncle, dear Uncle Albert,” she cried chokingly, “won’t I ever see you any more?”
“Yes, yes, dear child,” he said soothingly, “I shall run up to look at you and the others one of these days, when business grows slack; and perhaps—who knows but you’ll be back with us again some day? But there, I must go now. Be good children, all of you, and Uncle Albert won’t forget you at Christmas time.”
And with a hasty caress bestowed on each of the others he hurried from the car.
Ethel dried her eyes, opened the box, gave a bit of the candy to each of the other three, then seeing that Mr. Coote was eying them as though he too would like a share, she held out her box to him, asking timidly, “Will you have a piece too, sir?”
His only reply was to seize the box, help himself to half its contents, then hand it back with a gruff, “Candy isn’t at all good for children, and if your uncle had consulted me he wouldn’t have wasted his money buying it for you.”
“Oh, dear, that man’s got most all of our candy; and Uncle Albert said it was for us,” wailed Harry, taking a peep into the half-emptied box.
“Be quiet, sir!” commanded Coote, turning a flushed and angry face upon the little boy.
“Give back that candy and I’ll be quiet enough,” returned Harry sturdily.