"That depends upon myself," he said. "I make them, you see. I have had any quantity in my day, but they're scattered far and wide. And—there are a great many blanks, Alice, my dear, since I was last at home," he added, turning to Mrs. Tudor. "I don't know that any of them was ever quite such a pet of mine as this little mother of yours, my dears."
"Oh!" said Elsa, looking rather disappointed; "you are not our real uncle, then? I always thought you were."
"Well, think so still," said Mr. Byrne. "At any rate, you must treat me so, and then I shall be quite content. But I must be going. I shall see you to-morrow after I've had it out with that donkey Norris. What a stupid idiot he is, to be sure!" and for a moment Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot looked quite fierce. "And then I must see little Vic. What time shall I come to-morrow, Alice?"
"Whenever you like, uncle," she said. "Will you not come and stay here altogether?"
"No, thank you, my dear. I've got my own ways, you see. I'm a fussy old fellow. And I've got my servant—my blackamoor. He'd frighten all the neighbours. And you'd fuss yourself, thinking I wasn't comfortable. I'll come up to-morrow afternoon and stay on to dinner, if you like. And just leave the boy to me a bit. Good night, all of you; good night."
And in another moment the little old gentleman was gone.
The two girls and their mother sat staring at each other when he had disappeared.
"Isn't it like a dream? Can you believe he has really come, mamma?" said Elsa.
"Hardly," replied her mother. "But I am very thankful. If only Geoff will not vex him."
Elsa and Frances said nothing. They had their own thoughts about their brother, but they felt it best not to express them.