'Do you remember that you used to call me "the most meddlesome of girls"?—that year when I tried to reconcile my stepfather and his men. Well, I am going to be meddlesome again, for I want, if God will let me, to make peace between our two English uncles. Would you believe that they are living in different houses in the same neighbourhood, and are still estranged because of Loring's choice of a profession? Yet I can see that they both desire to be friends again, if once their pride could be overcome. Now that Loring is dead, Uncle Jack must partly regret having persuaded him to be a soldier, and Uncle Ross should be able to forgive the choice, especially as he has been chiefly to blame for the strength to which this foolish family feud has attained. If you can tell me anything, George, about Loring's death, since you, his friend, were with him when he fell, I might be fortunate enough to effect a reconciliation through their mutual interest in the news. Did Loring send no messages to either uncle? Please let me know all you know, for I, being on the spot, can perhaps make good use of the knowledge.'
This letter was also finished, and the envelope addressed and stamped, before the breakfast bell sounded.
Catherine ran downstairs, to find Ted and Toddie awaiting her in the dining-room, two solemn-faced little people, wearing their best frocks, and standing side by side, hand in hand, on the hearth-rug.
'We've been vewwy good, an' we're so tired wiv it,' announced Toddie, with emphasis.
'We didn't fink muvver was ever comin', nor you, nor bweakfast,' explained Ted. 'Bweakfast comed first though, an' we didn't peep one bit under the cover, did we, Toddie?'
'No, but it's sausages, I fink, 'cause it smells like it.'
'Then you comed next, dearie Carr, an' we won't have to be good no longer.'
Ted's face was roguish again, and he scrambled on to Catherine's knee as she sat down in the arm-chair, while Toddie, regardless of her Sunday dress, sank down in a happy heap on the rug at her feet.
'Not good any more! Oh, Ted, you know I always want you to be good!' she exclaimed, trying to preserve discipline.
'Oh yes, of course!' cried the culprit, 'only the nurse says "Be vewwy good children," when she just wants us not to cwumple our clothes. You don't do that. You don't like us best when we're stiff, does you, Carr?'