Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Emmy and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net [Illustration: PLANNING OUT THE GROUND. _See page 14._] HOLIDAY TALES. BY FLORENCE WILFORD, AUTHOR OF 'NIGEL BARTRAM'S IDEAL,' 'AN AUTHOR'S CHILDREN,' ETC. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. [Illustration: Emblem] GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN & WELSH, SUCCESSORS TO NEWBERY AND HARRIS, WEST CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. E. P. DUTTON & CO., NEW YORK. _The Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are reserved._ CONTENTS SEVEN CAMPBELLS I. MOTHER AND SONS 5 II. JOHNNIE'S PROTEGE 29 III. WHAT SEVEN CAMPBELLS CAN DO 56 CECIL'S MEMORABLE WEEK I. CECIL'S MEMORABLE WEEK 73 II. A BACHELOR'S LUNCH 98 III. GOOD NEWS 123 IV. IT'S ALL RIGHT! 139 [Illustration] SEVEN CAMPBELLS. CHAPTER I. MOTHER AND SONS. 'MAMMA, there's such a fine poem here about "seven lovely Campbells" whose father's name was Archibald; it must mean us,--don't you think so?' And a very pretty boy about ten years of age, who had been poring for some time over Wordsworth's Poems, lifted his roguish face to his mother's with a look of pretended conviction. 'Not exactly, Willie, seeing that the poem begins, "Seven _daughters_ had Lord Archibald!"' 'Ah, mamma, you are not to be caught. I do believe you have read everything that ever was written! But now, mamma, which would you rather have--seven daughters or seven sons?' 'I would rather have just what I've got, Willie.' 'Seven sons, then. Oh! mamma, I'm glad you said that; and you know we shall be of much more use to you than a lot of girls. Why, if the French were to come, you needn't be a bit afraid, with all of us to defend you.' 'Baby at the head, armed _cap-a-pie_, I suppose,' smiled the mother, dancing in her arms her youngest son, a little fellow of about two years old; but she soon set him down in her lap again, for she had been ill, and was still so weak that the least effort tired her. 'Mamma, I think you'd better let me ring for nurse to take Georgie, and then you can lie upon your sofa again and have a nap; and I'll go and ask my brothers to play in the rough ground, where you won't hear their noise,' said thoughtful Willie. The mother assented to all these proposals; but when, after ringing the bell, the boy turned to go, she beckoned him back to her side. 'Tell my darling Johnnie that I hope he'll come and sit with me this afternoon; only he must be wise and quiet, and not get into one of his harum-scarum moods, or papa won't let me have him.'