"And I have made a poem for the occasion, which I will now recite for you," added Bruce. "Usually it is Basil who is regarded as the literary member of Battalion B, but I have usurped his office. You will please notice that it is not my fault that the rhyme of my poem halts in one place--the only place, in fact, for the poem is not long. If the English language were ever pronounced as it is spelled the rhyme would be perfect, which you will at once perceive after I have recited it. Ladies and gentlemen: My poem." Bruce also bowed deeply, turning from side to side, then proceeded to recite slowly and impressively: _Miss Grey, The key!_ and handed Miss Charlotte the key to her own front door. "You perceive," said Bruce as soon as he could speak for his audience's applause and laughter, "that the spelling of those two words is identical; evidently the pronunciation of one or the other should be changed. There was not time after the composition of the poem--which consumed hours--to decide which it should be." "If you had written your poem in Irish brogue it would have settled itself," observed Rob. "Now we heroes of Battalion B are going down to meet our long lost father," said Bartlemy. "Come Bas and Bruce; there's not too much time." The three tall, stalwart young fellows tramped out of the house and down the walk bordered by the old-fashioned shrubs which had sprung up again since the fire. "How proud of them their father will be!" said Mrs. Grey, watching them with as loving a look as if they had been her own boys. Polly and the little Hasbrooks were already friends, and Polly bore the four away to display the charms of her new home. "It's as nice as it can be, and I'm glad you have it, Cousin Peace, but only think what renunciations the little grey house has had to make lately--you and Polly, Lydia--I suppose I can't include Demetrius----" "Are those the only renunciations, and is it only the little grey house which has renounced, Rob dear?" asked Myrtle Hasbrook significantly. "But, as I was about to say when this lady rudely interrupted me," continued Rob frowning at Myrtle, fearfully, "consider what we have gained: A new house to make a supplementary home; a new kind-of-cousin-through-our-aunt-in-law; up at the big house, little Doris and Ted and Bobby, besides dear little Betty to pet and look after, and----" "Our father, dear Grey people," broke in Basil's voice, completing Rob's sentence. The group around the fireplace of the new house turned towards the door. They saw the three tall Rutherford boys, and with them a man in navy uniform, as tall as his sons, smiling at them with his handsome bronzed face.