“I'll tell you. I must tell you. Aunt Hannah is keeping him up-stairs so I can tell you,” she panted. “But it was so funny, when I expected a girl, you know, to see him with his brown beard, and he was so tall and big! And, of course, it made me think how _I_ came, and was a girl when you expected a boy; and Mrs. Carleton had just said to-day that maybe this girl would even things up. Oh, it was so funny!” “Billy, my-my dear,” remonstrated Uncle William, mildly. “But what _is_ his name?” demanded Cyril. “Did the creature sign himself 'Mary Jane'?” exploded Bertram. “I don't know his name, except that it's 'M. J.'--and that's how he signed the letters. But he _is_ called 'Mary Jane' sometimes, and in the letter he quoted somebody's speech--I've forgotten just how--but in it he was called 'Mary Jane,' and, of course, Aunt Hannah took him for a girl,” explained Billy, grown a little more coherent now. “Didn't he write again?” asked William. “Yes.” “Well, why didn't he correct the mistake, then?” demanded Bertram. Billy chuckled. “He didn't want to, I guess. He thought it was too good a joke.” “Joke!” scoffed Cyril. “But, see here, Billy, he isn't going to live here--now?” Bertram's voice was almost savage. “Oh, no, he isn't going to live here--now,” interposed smooth tones from the doorway. “Mr.--Arkwright!” breathed Billy, confusedly. Three crimson-faced men sprang to their feet. The situation, for a moment, threatened embarrassed misery for all concerned; but Arkwright, with a cheery smile, advanced straight toward Bertram, and held out a friendly hand. “The proverbial fate of listeners,” he said easily; “but I don't blame you at all. No, 'he' isn't going to live here,” he went on, grasping each brother's hand in turn, as Billy murmured faint introductions; “and what is more, he hereby asks everybody's pardon for the annoyance his little joke has caused. He might add that he's heartily-ashamed of himself, as well; but if any of you--” Arkwright turned to the three tall men still standing by their chairs--“if any of you had suffered what he has at the hands of a swarm of youngsters for that name's sake, you wouldn't blame him for being tempted to get what fun he could out of Mary Jane--if there ever came a chance!” Naturally, after this, there could be nothing stiff or embarrassing. Billy laughed in relief, and motioned Mr. Arkwright to a seat near her. William said “Of course, of course!” and shook hands again. Bertram and Cyril laughed shamefacedly and sat down. Somebody said: “But what does the 'M. J.' stand for, anyhow?” Nobody answered this, however; perhaps because Aunt Hannah and Marie appeared just then in the doorway. Dinner proved to be a lively meal. In the newcomer, Bertram met his match for wit and satire; and “Mr. Mary Jane,” as he was promptly called by every one but Aunt Hannah, was found to be a most entertaining guest. After dinner somebody suggested music.