"It could sleep on the lounge in my room. I wouldn't let it trouble you any. It is a fine charity, and this is such a good place for a child to play. Isabel will take one for a week, if I will, and I said I would. There is just time, before I go away," Phebe said with an air of finality which would have ended the subject, had it not been for Allyn's last shot,-- "They'd better get its life insured, then, for there's no telling how long it will be before Babe takes it as a subject for her scalpel." "Don't be foolish, Allyn," Phebe returned; but Hubert interposed,-- "Isn't Archie going to come on at all, this summer, Hope?" "I'm afraid not. Summer is his busy time, and he will be out in camp till snow flies." "I don't see the use of having that kind of a husband," Phebe observed severely. "You like the kind like me better; don't you, Babe?" "No; I should get sick of having you everlastingly around the house, Billy. I want a man to have hours and stick to them, not keep running in and out. I sha'n't marry. If I did, I would insist on a ten-hour law; then I could be sure of getting some time to myself." "Archie lives on a ten-month law," his wife said regretfully. "Of course, I can go out to camp to be with him; but it's not good for Mac. He picks up all the talk of the miners and retails it at inopportune times, and runs wild generally. Archie usually comes home for a day, every two or three weeks; but, this year, he is too far out for that, so I thought it was best for me to come East now." "You had an easy journey; didn't you?" Hubert asked. "Yes; at least, as easy as it could be with Mac." "I think you have slandered Mac," Mrs. McAlister observed. "He seems as gentle as a cooing dove." Hope and Theodora exchanged glances, as Hubert said laughingly,-- "That's because he paid you a compliment. Your judgment isn't a fair one." But Hope only added,-- "Wait and see what the morrow may bring forth." The morrow brought forth Mac, rested, refreshed, ready for mischief. Before breakfast was on the table, he had had an unfriendly interview with Patrick, had come into collision with Melchisedek, and Mrs. McAlister met him hurriedly retiring from the kitchen with both hands full of fried potatoes. The next that was seen of him, he was playing horse on the front lawn, and Allyn was the horse. Even in his brief survey of the family, the night before, Mac had come to a decision upon two points. He did not like his Aunt Phebe; he did like his Uncle Allyn. And Allyn, unaccustomed to children though he was, promptly became the slave of his imperious young nephew. "Oh, Hope, it is good to have you here," Theodora said, with a tempestuous embrace, when Mrs. Holden appeared at the door of the writing-room, that morning. "Then I am not in the way?" "Not a bit. I'm not writing, to-day; I can't settle myself, when I know you are within reach." "Perhaps I'd better go back to Helena," Hope suggested.