“'Land knows,' read Marie-Celeste, resuming the letter, 'why he wanted to be so mum about things; that's his own affair, of course; but he's been awfully good to us, and he has fixed up some matters that were bothering your cousin a great deal just beautifully. All the same, he doesn't look a bit well, Marie-Celeste, and he's a sad sort of man. It seems as though he had something on his mind, but he's not going to let anybody know what it is—that isn't his way. We've been in London now nearly a week, stopping in lodgings in the same house with Mr. Selden. We've had to stay because of the business matters, but to-morrow we are going down to Oxford to see to some things there, and then in a day or two home to the Little Castle. You see, I've been able to make myself real useful to Mr. Harris, because, you know, he's not overstrong yet, and accustomed, besides, to having a valet—which is what I happen to be at present; but it's not going to be for long, and between us, Marie-Celeste, I'm not sorry. I half believe that father of mine, that I don't know anything about, must have been a sea-captain. There are times when it's all I can do to keep from running away from everything and putting to sea again as fast as ever I can on any old tub that'll take me; but, of course, I really wouldn't do anything so mean; and all told, I have had a beautiful summer. Chris has decided to go back to the States on the Majestic, sailing the first of October, and I'm to take my old place on that trip, too. It seems as though you all ought to be on board with us. Couldn't you get your father to bring it about somehow? Whew, what a long letter I have written!—the longest in my life, and I never wrote more than half a dozen, anyway. Don't stay away too long. It's going to be rather lonely at Windsor without you all, and there isn't so very much time left now. Won't Mr. Harold be surprised to find his brother in the Little Castle ready to receive him! Mr. Theodore's getting to be a brick, I can tell you. Good-by. As long as your people are not to know what's in this letter, Mr. Harris tells me to put it in an envelope addressed to Miss Allyn.
“'Yours truly,
“'Donald.'”
“So much for Donald;” and Marie-Celeste, pausing to catch her breath, hesitated to which of the other two letters to give the preference. “I think I'll read Theodore's next, Miss Dorothy, because it's the latest, but really Donald's the most interesting of the three. This letter, is from Windsor, and it was written only yesterday morning. It is dated 'The Little Castle.' 'Dear little Coz,' it says, 'here I am, you see, and I assure you I have kept my promise to the letter, and have come home as soon as ever I could.'”
“Why were you so anxious to make him promise that?” asked M iss Dorothy wonderingly.
“Why, because home's the best place for him; don't you think so? He has not been there half enough these last few years, and, besides, that's where he belongs—”
“But having the Little Castle all to himself probably does not seem home-like,” suggested Dorothy sympathetically.