Isobel ignored his philosophy. "You want to remember, Graham Westley, that being Uncle Peter's grandnieces and nephew and having his money gives us a certain----" she floundered, her mind frantically searching for the word. "Prestige," cried Gyp grandly. "I heard mother say that. And I looked it up--it means authority and influence and power. But I don't see how just happening to be Uncle Peter's nieces----" At times Gyp's tendency to get at the very root of things annoyed her older sister. "I don't care about dictionaries. Now that the school's going to be at Highacres we four want to always be very careful how we speak of Uncle Peter and act sort of dignified out there----" "_Rats!_" cut in Graham, with scorn. "I say, Gyp--that's _my_ banner!" Thereupon ensued a lively squabble, in which Tibby, who adored Graham, sided with him, and Isobel, in spite of Gyp's tearful pleading, refused to take part, so that the banner came down from the wall and went into Graham's pocket just as Mrs. Westley walked into the room. "Why, my dears, all of you in the house this glorious afternoon?" Mrs. Westley was a plump, bright-eyed woman who adored her four children, and enjoyed them, with happy serenity, except at infrequent intervals, when she worried herself "distracted" over them. At such times she always turned to "Uncle Johnny." Isobel and Gyp had almost managed to answer: "There's no place to go," when the mother's next words cut short their complaint. "I have the most astonishing news from Uncle Johnny," and she held up a fat envelope. "Oh, when's he coming back?" cried Tibby. "Very soon. But what do you think he wants to do--bring back with him a little girl he found up there in the mountains--or rather, _she_ found _him_--when he got lost on a wrong trail. Listen: "'...She is a most unusual child. And she has outgrown the school here. I'd like, as a sort of scholarship, to send her for a year or two to Lincoln School. But there is the difficulty of finding a suitable place for her to live--she's too young to put in a boarding house. Could not you and the girls stretch your hearts and your rooms enough to let in the youngster? I haven't said anything to her mother yet--I won't until I hear from you. But I want to make this experiment and it will help me immensely if you'll write and say my little girl can go straight to you. I had a long talk with John Randolph, just before I came up here--we feel that Lincoln School has grown a little away from the real democratic spirit of fellowship that every American school should maintain; he suggested certain scholarships and that's what came to my mind when I found this girl. Isobel and Gyp and all their friends can give my wild mountain lassie a good deal--and she can give Miss Gyp and Isobel something, too----'" "Humph," came a suspicion of a snort from Isobel and Gyp. "Wish he'd found a boy," added Graham.