"Oh, I don't need any time, Uncle John!" cried Margaret, trying to speak steadily. "I--I didn't realise, I suppose--it has all come about so gradually--I didn't realise all that they were to me. To lose Basil and Susan D.,--I don't see how I can let them go, uncle; I don't indeed. You won't think me ungrateful, will you, dear? I was, oh, so happy, before they came; but now--they are so dear, so dear! and--and Susan D. is used to me, and to have her go to a stranger who might not understand the poor little shut-up nature--oh, how can I bear it? how can I bear it?" "Well, my dear," said Mr. Montfort, comfortably. "How if you did not have to bear it?" Then, as Margaret raised her startled eyes to his, he went on, in the kind, steady tone that always brought quiet and peace with it. "How if we made the present arrangement--part of it, at least--permanent? Let Merton go to his father; I should not care to have the bringing up of Merton. But there is an excellent school near here, on the island, to which Basil could go, staying the week and coming home here for Sunday; and if little Susan would not be too much care for you,--she's a dear little girl, once you get through the prickles,--why, May Margaret, it seems to me--" But Mr. Montfort got no further; for here was Margaret sobbing on his breast as if she were Rita herself, and calling him the best and dearest and kindest, and telling him that she was so happy, so happy; and that was why she was crying, only she could not stop; and so on and so on, till Uncle John really thought he should have to send for Frances. At his suggesting this, however, Margaret laughed through her tears, and presently struggled into something like composure. "And, after all," said Mr. Montfort, "how do you know the children will want to stay with you, you conceited young woman?" "Oh, Uncle John! I will teach Susan D. all I know, and a great deal more, I hope, for I shall be learning all the time now, if I have another coming after me. And we will keep house together, and it will be like the little sister, like little Penelope, Uncle John. And then to have Basil coming home every week, all full of school, and fun, and noise,--why, how perfectly delightful it will be! And I will not let them overrun you, dear uncle; they have been good lately, haven't they?" "They have been extremely good, my dear. All the same, I think you would do well to interview them on the subject, before you prepare all your chickens for the market. See, there are your two coming up the walk this moment. You might go--"