"P.S.--You will also receive, per same ship, my son, John R. Stephen. Enclosed find second draft ($250). For balance, apply Messrs. Rödenheim." "Mr. Bindon," observed Mr. Harland when he had finished reading this epistle, "appears to be rather a curious man." "What is the matter?" inquired his wife. "Is he going to withdraw that son of his?" "Not exactly. He has 'shipped'--the word is his own--two more. The second, who is 'shipped' in a postscript, is, apparently, a sort of afterthought." When the lady and gentleman returned to Mulberry House the new-comers had arrived. The three Masters Bindon were interviewed together. One thing about them was noticeable--that they were all about the same age. "How old are you?" asked the lady, addressing one of the strangers. "Twelve." "And you?" "I'm twelve." "Then," said the lady, "I suppose you are twins." They did not look as though they were twins. One was big, and black, and bony; the other was short, and fat, and red. Still, as they both were twelve, and they were brothers-- "Twins?" said the red-haired lad. "I'm no twin. He's not my brother." He turned upon the two other Masters Bindon with scorn in his eyes. "They're neither of them my brothers. I disown them." "John R. Stephen," remarked John F. Ernest, slipping his hand into that of the black-haired Master Bindon, "is my brother. John F. Stanley has disowned us from the first." "Yes," said Rufus, "and I'll disown you to the last." "You wait," observed the black-haired Master Bindon, whose claim to fraternity was thus denied, "till we get outside. I'll rub you down with a rail." "I hope," said Mrs. Harland, when the Masters Bindon had withdrawn, "I do hope, Andrew, that there is nothing wrong." "Pooh!" replied her husband. But when he was alone he rubbed his chin and murmured _sotto voce_, "It strikes me that there's not much difference between J. Bindon and 'Jolly Jack.'" He thought that there might be even less than he had imagined when one day, before the term was half-way through, he received a cablegram from New York: "Son coming _Batavia_, Forgot to write. Draw Rödenheim. BINDON." The son came. He proved to be John G. William. He, too, had just turned twelve. He did not seem pleased to see his brothers. Nor, to tell the truth, did they appear overjoyed at sight of him. He was a lad with a round bullet-shaped head, and was extraordinarily broad across the shoulders. He had not been twenty-four hours in the house before he had fought and thrashed the three other Masters Bindon. It was not surprising, when it was seen how he had damaged them, that his relatives, knowing his tastes and his capacity, had not welcomed him with open arms. At tea Mrs. Harland, who had observant eyes, noticed that John F. Ernest was minus one of his front teeth. She inquired how he had lost it. "John G. William, ma'am, has knocked it out." "John G. William! Do you mean your brother who arrived to-day?" John F. Ernest explained that he did.