It was Miles' admiration for his brother that was the bane of Virginie's life. Timid by nature, Miles became bold when Humphrey led the way; obedient and submissive by himself, at Humphrey's bidding he would set Virginie at defiance, and for the time be as mischievous as he. That "l'union fait la force," Virginie had long since discovered, to the ruin of her nerves and temper. And now Virginie has several times suggested that if Humphrey will submit to a water-proof coat, and goloshes, he may go and meet his father at the station; and Humphrey has consented to come to terms if Miles may go too. But here Virginie is firm. No amount of wrapping up would prevent Miles catching cold on so damp and rainy a day, as she knows well, by fatal experience; so the fiat has gone forth, either Humphrey will go alone, or both will stay at home. "Don't go," pleaded little Miles, as they pressed their faces against the window; "it will be so dull all alone with Virginie." "She's a cross old thing," muttered Humphrey; "but never mind, Miles, I won't go without you, and we'll count the raindrops on the window to make the time pass quick." This interesting employment had the desired effect, and the next half-hour soon slipped by. Indeed, it was so engrossing, that the dog-cart came up the avenue, and was nearly at the hall door, before the little boys perceived it. "Qu'est-ce que c'est donc!" exclaimed Virginie, startled by Humphrey's jump from the window-sill to the floor. "C'est mon père," was all the information he vouchsafed her, as he rushed out of the room. "M. votre père! Attendez done que je vous arrange un peu les cheveux." She spoke to the winds: nothing was heard of Humphrey but sundry bumps and jumps in the distance, which told of his rapid descent down the stairs. The more tardy Miles was caught and brushed, in spite of his struggles, and then he was off to join his brother. He reached the hall door just as the carriage drove up, and the two little figures jumped and capered about, while a tall, dark gentleman divested himself of his mackintosh and umbrella, and then came up the steps into the house. He stooped down to kiss the eager faces. "Well, my little fellows, and how are you both? No bones broken since last week? No new bruises and bumps, eh?" They were so taken up with their father, that they did not perceive that he was not alone, but that another gentleman had got out of the dog-cart, till Sir Everard said-- "Now go and shake hands with that gentleman. I wonder if you know who he is?" Humphrey looked up into the young man's face, and said, while his color deepened-- "I think you are my Uncle Charlie, who came to see us once a long time ago before you went to sea, and before----"