“It would be lovely,” said Dulcie, politely, “but your mother doesn’t think it would be right. She is afraid Papa wouldn’t like it.” “Our papa is coming home to-day,” chimed in Molly, “and we haven’t seen him for more than a year.” “Papas are pretty nice,” Barbara admitted, “but of course they’re not like mammas. I don’t think I could possibly leave Mamma, even to go to the nicest place in the world. Mamma says perhaps you can come to see us again some day. I’m so glad your name isn’t Delia Smith, Dulcie; Dulcie Winslow is ever so much prettier, and I think I like Daisy better than Margaret, too. I suppose your papa would be disappointed if you were away when he came. Haven’t you any mamma?” “No,” said Dulcie, with a sigh; “she died when we were very little. I am the only one who can remember her.” Barbara looked interested. “My first mamma died when I was a little baby,” she said; “I can’t remember her a bit.” The four little Winslows nearly dropped their spoons into the ice-cream, so great was their astonishment at this amazing announcement. “Your--your what?” gasped Dulcie. “My first mamma,” repeated Barbara, calmly. “I’ve got her picture on my bureau, and I always kiss her good-night. Mamma says she loved me very much, but I’m sure she loves me just as much herself, because she says I’m the preciousest thing in the world.” At that moment Mrs. Thorne returned, with a time-table in her hand. “The next down train leaves here in half an hour,” she said; “I’m afraid we shall have to hurry a little. I have sent word to James to harness the ponies, and will drive you to the station myself.” “Mrs. Thorne,” said Dulcie, regarding her hostess with big, astonished eyes, “I hope it isn’t a rude question, but I’ve got to ask. Are you--are you Barbara’s stepmother?” Mrs. Thorne laughed merrily. “So you have found out,” she said. “Yes, I am, but that doesn’t make any difference in our love for each other, does it, Barbara darling?” And she stooped to kiss the little girl, who responded by flinging both arms round her neck. “No, indeed it doesn’t,” she cried, heartily. “I wouldn’t change you for all the mammas in the world.” “And we thought all stepmothers were wicked and cruel,” said Dulcie, slowly. “O dear! I’m afraid we’ve been dreadfully silly, and I guess we’d better go home just as soon as we possibly can.” CHAPTER XVIII A HOME-COMING “You are really, without exception, the worst-behaved children I have ever heard of in my life. I cannot think of any punishment severe enough for what you deserve.”