He did not know they were coming until they had come, and he suddenly met Queenie in the park, face to face, as she was running up to see him and tell him all the news. He was so surprised that he only stood quite still, staring hard at her, and exclaimed, “Queenie!” in a very astonished voice. “Bertie!” she answered, mimicking him, and then she began to laugh in her old merry way. “Why, Bertie, how astonished you look! Didn’t I say we should be home in the spring? Aren’t you pleased to see me back?” “Yes, very pleased,” answered Bertie, recovering himself. “Are the boys here yet?” “Not yet. They will be back at Easter. Papa and mamma and I have come home now. Bertie, is it true that the Squire has adopted you properly?” “I am his little boy now,” answered the child, simply. “He says so.” “And do you like it?” “Yes, very much.” “You like him?” “I love him.” “And you’re not dreadfully dull?” “Oh no!” Queenie looked at him critically. “You don’t look as if you were unhappy. You’ve grown, I’m sure. You look quite different from what you did. Are you happy?” “Yes, very.” “Well, I’m glad of that,” said Queenie. “I like people to have nice times. I’ve had _such_ fun myself.” “Have you? Where have you been?” “Oh, to lots of places. We stayed in ever so many houses, and it was great fun. Sometimes there were other children, and sometimes there weren’t. I liked both, but I think I liked it best when there were no nurseries or schoolrooms; then I was generally with the ladies. I liked to hear them talk, and they gave me pretty things. I’m never troublesome, you know, except to nurse,” added Queenie, shaking her curly head with a merry laugh; “so people like me, and say I’m no trouble, and then I’m not turned out.” Bertie laughed too, because Queenie’s mirth was infectious. “Do you know,” went on the little chatterbox, as Bertie turned and walked beside her,—“do you know we are not going to live here much longer? only till midsummer, perhaps not so long?” “I didn’t know,” answered Bertie. “Why are you going away?” “Mamma doesn’t like it, nor papa either; and I don’t think _I_ care for it so very much;” and the little maiden put on her grand air, as if her wishes had been of very great consequence in the decision of her parents. “We always used to live in London till papa had this place left to him, and then we came here for a little while; but nobody cares very particular for it, and so they have decided to sell it.” Bertie opened his eyes wide. “Then will somebody else buy it, and come and live here?” he asked. Queenie nodded her head mysteriously. “Somebody has bought it already.” “Oh!” “Yes, somebody you know. Guess who it is.” “Somebody I know,” repeated Bertie, slowly; “but I know so few people.” “Then you will guess all the quicker!” answered Queenie, with her merry laugh. Bertie considered a moment and then said,— “The Squire?”