“There isn’t anybody at the windows,” said Molly, glancing up at the top floor of the boarding-house. “What makes you so much interested in that lady, Maud? She may not be a bit interesting.” “I love to hear her sing,” said Maud, “and besides, I’ve got a secret,” she added, but in so low a tone that the others did not catch the words. At that moment there was an excited exclamation from Daisy, of “here he comes; he’s just turned the corner.” And everything else was forgotten in the joy of running to meet Uncle Stephen. “Well, well,” laughed Mr. Maitland, kissing them all round, “so here you are, all four. No danger of being kept waiting, I see.” “Oh, we wouldn’t do that,” protested Dulcie, quite shocked at the mere suggestion. “We got ready early, in case you should happen to come before twelve. Grandma and Aunt Kate have both gone out, so there isn’t any use of your going in to see them.” “You are the people I want to see this time,” said Uncle Stephen, with a rather peculiar smile. “I came a little early on purpose, so as to have plenty of time for lunch. I have tickets for ‘The Pirates of Penzance’ this afternoon.” “‘The Pirates of Penzance,’” repeated Dulcie, with a little gasp. “Why--why, that’s at a theatre, isn’t it?” “To be sure it is, and a very charming little operetta it is, too. I hope you haven’t all seen it already.” “Oh, no,” said Dulcie, “we never--that is, I mean we don’t often go to theatres. Daisy and I saw ‘Rip Van Winkle’ once with Papa. It’s very wonderful--I mean it’s very kind of you to take us.” And despite all Dulcie’s attempts to maintain what she considered the proper demeanor of a grown-up young lady, she could not refrain from a little skip of delight. As for the other three, they made no attempt whatever to conceal their delight, and began plying Uncle Stephen with a shower of questions about “The Pirates of Penzance,” which lasted till they reached the corner of Fifth Avenue, where he was obliged to interrupt them, to ask whether they would prefer walking to the hotel or taking a stage. “Oh, a stage, please--that is, if you don’t mind,” pleaded Molly. “We just love riding in the stages. We hardly ever get a ride now, since Papa and Lizzie went away, because Grandma won’t let us go by ourselves.” “Who is Lizzie?” Mr. Maitland asked, as they paused on the corner, to await an approaching stage. “She was our nurse,” Dulcie explained, “but she went away last summer. We really don’t need a nurse any more, we’re getting so big.” Mr. Maitland glanced down at the four little figures, as if he did not consider them “so very big,” after all, but just then the stage came within hailing distance, and he made no remarks on the subject.