"I am Daddy, my little white Rosebud." One by one he took each in his strong arms. All looking to him, no one noticed the boy who had followed him out of the railway carriage, who was now looking on with wondering eyes. Rosebud was the first to speak to him. "Iz ’ou Tarol?" she asked. Stooping, he too folded his arms around her, not such strong arms as her father’s, but very loving. From that moment the little maiden became one of the dearest things in life to the boy. "Where’s Mother, children?" "Mother did not feel quite able to come to the station, Father. She bore the news of dear Uncle’s death so well at first; then she broke down entirely, and she has not left her room since," Edith told him. The Colonel then remembered the boy who had accompanied him. "Children, here is Carol." They quickly gave him the loving welcome which their sympathetic hearts prompted. Father suggested sending on the carriage, saying to the children: "We will walk through the park. Oh, the sweet breath of the dear home land, after Africa’s sultry heat!" Carol kept hold of Rosebud’s hand. The little maiden was a revelation to him, never having had little sisters or brothers of his own. His mother for a long time before her death had been a hopeless invalid, and whilst she was slowly dying of consumption the boy had developed tubercular disease of the left hip, and the physicians, who pronounced it a hopeless case, also said one lung was affected. Three years the boy lay on his back on a couch, or in a spinal carriage, and it was generally anticipated he would quickly follow his mother to an early grave. But after Mrs. Willmar’s death a cousin of hers came from America to take charge of the motherless boy, and from the day that she came he began to get better. Now, as he walked with his cousins across the park, though somewhat tall for his twelve years and extremely slight of stature, he bore no trace of his past sufferings. On arriving at the Manor, Colonel Mandeville went straight to his wife’s room, mounting the staircase two steps at a time. The children took Carol to the school-room, saying, "Mother will send for you presently, dear Carol." School-room tea was ready, and to their great delight the three little girls, who belonged of course to the nursery, were invited to be present. Before they sat down each child had a little offering to make Carol, not a new gift they had bought for him, but one of their own treasures, just to make him feel how glad they were to have him: that henceforth he was to be their own dear brother. It was all so strange and new to him, he did not know how to thank them. Rosebud’s offering of her little white bunny was so perfectly sweet. It became a treasure of treasures to him ever after. He was strangely quiet, but there seemed no sadness in his eyes or voice. His cousins could not understand it, and even wondered if he had loved his father as they loved theirs.