"You do not feel the load of responsibility too much for your young shoulders?" Mr. Montfort went on. "It--it is not too dull for you here, alone month after month with an elderly man, and a hermit, and one who has the reputation of a grim and unfriendly old fellow? What do you say, Margaret?" The quick tears sprang to Margaret's eyes. She looked up at her uncle, and saw in his eyes the quizzical twinkle that always half puzzled and wholly delighted her. "Oh, uncle!" she cried; "you really deceived me this time! I might have known you were in fun,--but you were so grave!" "Grave?" said Mr. Montfort. "Never more so, I assure you. I may not have very serious doubts, in my own mind; nevertheless, I want your assurance. Do you, Margaret Montfort, find life a burden under existing circumstances, or do you find it--well, endurable for awhile yet?" "I find life as happy as I can imagine it," said Margaret, simply; and then, being absolutely truthful, she added, "That is,--I did find it so, Uncle John,--until these last two weeks." "Precisely!" said Mr. Montfort. "Not a word, my dear! I understand you. You are fond of children, I think, Margaret?" "Very fond," said Margaret, thinking that Uncle John was strange indeed to-day. "Get on well with them, I should suppose. You had a great deal of influence over Peggy, Margaret." "Dear, good Peggy! She was so ready to be influenced, Uncle John. She was just waiting to--to be helped on a little, don't you know?" "Yes; so Rita thought, if I remember aright!" said Mr. Montfort, dryly. "But with younger children, eh? You have had some experience of them, perhaps, Margaret?" Was he still joking? Margaret had not much sense of humour, and she was sadly puzzled again. "I--I love little children," she said. "Of course I do, Uncle John!" "Little children,--yes. But how about boys? Active, noisy, happy-go-lucky boys? Boys that smash windows, and yell, and tear their clothes on barbed-wire fences? How about those, Margaret?" "Is that the kind of boy you were, Uncle John?" asked Margaret, smiling. "Because if so, I am sure I shall like them very much." "Very well, my dear child!" he said. "You are well and happy, and we understand each other, and that is all right, very right. Now, Margaret,--I ask this for form's sake merely,--have you been in this room before, to-day?" "No, Uncle John," said Margaret. "Of course you have not. Knew it before I asked you. Do you notice anything unusual in the appearance of the room, my dear?" Margaret looked about her, wondering. It produced an impression of--well, not just the perfect order in which it was generally to be found. Several drawers were half open; a sheaf of papers lay on the floor, as if dropped by a startled hand. The writing things were disarranged, slightly, yet noticeably; for Mr. Montfort always kept them in one position, which was never changed save when they were in actual use.