"No one will bring them. They are to be put under charge of the guard, and to come by a fast train that does not stop anywhere. I felt it would be so much better, you see, for them to have to depend upon me at once rather than on someone they know." Miss Gregson sighed, and found before the first day of the visit was over that her sighs were justified. She was so exhausted after two or three hours of the company of the children, that she took the opportunity of slipping away to have a few minutes rest on the drawing-room sofa. It was too late to expect callers, but nevertheless her sleep was disturbed by the entrance of an elderly cousin of Sheila's who came in and out of the house as he liked, and was welcomed wherever he went, as his life was spent in doing kindnesses. If anyone was in trouble, or in difficulties it was always Peter Fortescue who came to the rescue, and with his kind and fatherly manner and comforting smile inspired confidence. To Sheila he was father and brother in one, and she really leaned on his advice, though she was of such an independent nature that she would have confessed this to no one. Sheila amused Peter, but at the same time he more often shook his head over her vagaries, and never hesitated to tell her the truth. He sympathised greatly with Miss Gregson and pitied her. Although he had disturbed her needed sleep the latter was thankful to see him. "Where is Sheila?" he asked after shaking hands. "In the garden. She has six poor little children from London for a fortnight! And with no one but ourselves to look after them. We have had a terrible afternoon, Mr. Fortescue." Miss Gregson was flushed and tired. "You look dead beat! An influx of six children to amuse and control is no laughing matter. I suppose they are difficult to manage?" "They were almost dumb with wonder the first hour, but unhappily this soon wore off. They do not know the meaning of obedience. When I said it was time to go to bed they rebelled. They wanted to see the horses again, they said, and nothing would quiet them but to take them to the stables. How we are to survive a fortnight of this kind of thing I can't think." "What are they doing now?" "Sheila is telling them a story in the summer house, hoping to quiet them." Peter rose. "I'll go and find these rebels," he said smiling. "I wish my dear little cousin would ask my advice before she undertakes this kind of thing. But," he added with a laugh, "she is not fond of advice from me or anyone, else! I don't suppose she asked yours, did she?" "Oh dear, no! That is the last thing she would do. She is a girl of such noble impulses, it is a pity that she acts on them without counting the cost." "I daresay at this present moment she is enjoying it all hugely." "She is perfectly happy; and you'll find her radiant. But to-morrow! Well there is no use looking forward, is there?" "None whatever. I'll go and see how things are going."