"Providence, my dear"--began Miss Belinda. But she was interrupted by the re-entrance of Mary Anne. "The man from the Lion, mum, wants to know what's to be done with the trunks. There's six of 'em, an' they're all that 'eavy as he says he wouldn't lift one alone for ten shilling." "Six!" exclaimed Miss Belinda. "Whose are they?" "Mine," replied Octavia. "Wait a minute. I'll go out to him." Miss Belinda was astounded afresh by the alacrity with which her niece seemed to forget her troubles, and rise to the occasion. The girl ran to the front door as if she was quite used to directing her own affairs, and began to issue her orders. "You will have to get another man," she said. "You might have known that. Go and get one somewhere." And when the man went off, grumbling a little, and evidently rather at a loss before such peremptory coolness, she turned to Miss Belinda. "Where must he put them?" she asked. It did not seem to have occurred to her once that her identity might be doubted, and some slight obstacles arise before her. "I am afraid," faltered Miss Belinda, "that five of them will have to be put in the attic." And in fifteen minutes five of them _were_ put into the attic, and the sixth--the biggest of all--stood in the trim little spare chamber, and pretty Miss Octavia had sunk into a puffy little chintz-covered easy-chair, while her newly found relative stood before her, making the most laudable efforts to recover her equilibrium, and not to feel as if her head were spinning round and round. CHAPTER II. "AN INVESTMENT, ANYWAY." The natural result of these efforts was, that Miss Belinda was moved to shed a few tears. "I hope you will excuse my being too startled to say I was glad to see you," she said. "I have not seen my brother for thirty years, and I was very fond of him." "He said you were," answered Octavia; "and he was very fond of you too. He didn't write to you, because he made up his mind not to let you hear from him until he was a rich man; and then he thought he would wait until he could come home, and surprise you. He was awfully disappointed when he had to go back without seeing you." "Poor, dear Martin!" wept Miss Belinda gently. "Such a journey!" Octavia opened her charming eyes in surprise. "Oh, he'll come back again!" she said. "And he doesn't mind the journey. The journey is nothing, you know." "Nothing!" echoed Miss Belinda. "A voyage across the Atlantic nothing? When one thinks of the danger, my dear"-- Octavia's eyes opened a shade wider. "We have made the trip to the States, across the Isthmus, twelve times, and that takes a month," she remarked. "So we don't think ten days much." "Twelve times!" said Miss Belinda, quite appalled. "Dear, dear, dear!" And for some moments she could do nothing but look at her young relative in doubtful wonder, shaking her head with actual sadness. But she finally recovered herself, with a little start.