"They don't deserve it as you do, you silly boy," said his sister. They were a merry party that night at supper. It seemed as if Neal would be a great addition to the family, and even Edith thawed somewhat. This pleased Mr. Franklin, who had been thoroughly annoyed by her behavior, and who had been really afraid that she would stay at home from the tournament rather than use his wife's gift. "Everything will run smoothly now," he said to himself, and, manlike, he soon forgot all about the trouble. "By-the-way, what relation am I to this family?" asked Neal, presently. "If Hester is your mother, of course I must be your uncle. I hope you will all treat me with proper respect." "I hope we shall be able to," said Cynthia, looking up with a saucy smile. She liked the new-comer immensely. "Did you ever run an incubator?" asked Jack, after supper. "Not I. Have you got one?" "Yes. Come along down and see it." They descended to the cellar, and Jack turned the eggs while he explained his methods to his new friend. "Is there money in it?" asked Neal. "Lots, I hope. But the trouble is, you've got to spend a lot to start with, and if you're not successful it's a dead loss. My first hatch went to smash." "How would you like to take me into partnership? I want to make some money." "First-rate." They were deep in a discussion of business arrangements when they went back to the others. "We'll make a 'go' of it," said Neal. "It's just the thing I've been looking for." "I have an idea, Jack," said Mrs. Franklin, as they came in. "When are the chickens to come out?" "Next Thursday." "Then we will celebrate the event in proper style. We will ask our friends to come to a 'hatching bee.'" "But suppose they don't hatch? Suppose they act the way they did before?" said Jack, dubiously. "Oh, they'll hatch, I will answer for them. You have learned how to take better care of them, and no one has interfered, and--oh, I am sure they will be out in fine shape!" Only Edith objected to this proposition, and she dared not say so before her father. Apparently the Gordons were going to carry all before them, and she, who until so recently had been to all intents and purposes the mistress of the house, was not even asked if she approved of the idea. She went to bed feeling that her lot was a very hard one. [TO BE CONTINUED.] WHEN ROYALTY TRAVELS. BY WILLIAM HEMMINGWAY. To live like a king is all very well, but to travel like one--may we all be delivered from such a fate! The modern monarch flits from his palace like the pheasant from his covert. True, the hunter may not pot him this time, but the danger of being killed is very great, and the king, like the golden-hued bird, knows that many of his brothers have fallen before the destroyer, who is constantly on the alert. Pheasants may be shot only during certain weeks, but anarchists never cease devising and trying new ways of king-killing.