"Andrew, don't talk to me like that. Who is this man? And what is the mystery connected with his children? Did I tell you that the other morning I asked John P. Arthur how many brothers he had, and he said that he didn't know, there were always such a lot of fresh ones turning up?" Mr. Harland rubbed his chin. "I don't know, Maria, what difference it makes to us whether the boys we receive as pupils are the sons of Brown or Jones. It is not as though we went in for anything special in the way of birth and family. It isn't even as though we confined ourselves to the sons of so-called gentlemen. Mine is a middle-class school. In these days of competition with the Board Schools one cannot choose one's pupils. I always welcome the sons of tradesmen, and I am quite sure I shall be always glad to receive any number of pupils at a hundred pounds a head, no matter who they are." Probably, on reflection, Mrs. Harland fell into her husband's views. At dinner the principal of Mulberry House School made an announcement which, while it was of an interesting, was, at the same time, of a curious kind. It was when the pudding had been served. "Boys, you will be glad to hear that I expect to receive, either to-day or to-morrow, five new pupils, and probably seven, but of the seven I am not quite sure. This piece of news should be specially interesting to the Masters Bindon, since the new pupils are their brothers." The headmaster's words were received with silence--possibly the silence of surprise. "I don't think that there is any other school in Europe which can claim to have had under its roof, at one and the same time, twelve brothers, and perhaps fourteen." Up spake Rufus--John F. Stanley: "I disown 'em," he observed; "I disown 'em all." Mr. Harland smiled. "But it does not follow because you disown them--which I am sorry to hear, because perhaps one of these days they may turn the tables and disown you--that therefore they are not your brothers." "But they're not my brothers, not one of all the lot of them. I'm the only son." "Yes," said Mr. Harland with gentle sarcasm, as his eyes, wandering round the table, rested on the other six; "I should say you were the only son." Two days passed. There were still no signs of the latest "shipment." On previous occasions the Masters Bindon had appeared at Mulberry House within a few hours of the receipt of the "advice." "I hope," suggested the principal to his wife when, on the evening of the second day, there was still no news, "that this is not another case of 'going on the burst.'" On the afternoon of the following day Mrs. Harland was working in her own apartment, when the servant came rushing in. There was in the maid's bearing a suggestion of suppressed excitement. "If you please, ma'am, there are a lot of little girls downstairs." "A lot of little girls! What do they want?" "If you please, ma'am, I don't know. I think they're foreigners. They say they've come to school."