Now I must explain that Leo's father was a _very_ busy man. Some evenings he did not get home till long after not only Leo, but his big sisters and even his mother, were in bed, and sometimes he had to go off so early in the morning that for several days together, now and then, they scarcely saw him. This was a great trouble to them all, for they were very fond indeed of their father, and he was very fond of them. But it could not be helped for the present, though Leo was already looking forward to the time when he should 'be a man,' and able to help papa. Lately, since Leo had started his post-office, his father had been even extra busy, and if he had heard about the matter at all, he had not paid much attention, or else he had quite forgotten it. The schoolroom in these children's house was at the end of the hall, and between it and the dining-room was a tiny little book-room or study, where their father kept all his own papers, and where he used to write when he _was_ at home. Sometimes when he came home very late and let himself in with his latchkey, he would go straight to this little room, where a good fire was kept up, and there he would write answers to any letters he found waiting for him, and leave them on the hall-table all ready to be posted the _very_ first thing in the morning by whichever of the servants was the earliest about; but I don't think any of the children or their mother knew of this custom of his, as it had never happened to come in their way. The very evening of the day on which Leo and his mother had been talking so seriously about the missing stamps, papa, for a wonder, came home quite early. It was really a great treat to them all. He had dinner quite comfortably with mamma, and after dinner, when Marion and Cynthia and Leo were all in the drawing-room as usual, they kept saying to each other _how_ nice it was to have papa with them. 'If only you could come home every day as early as this,' said Cynthia to him. 'But perhaps if I could, you wouldn't think so much of me,' said her father laughing. 'And I'm afraid mamma wouldn't let me sit up till nine _every_ night,' said Leo, who had got an hour's grace this evening. 'Mamma,' he went on, coming close to her and whispering, 'do you think you'll sit up to-night and _watch_? I wouldn't mind you doing it with papa, you know.' 'I'll see about it,' said his mother, smiling, while his father looked up and asked what they were whispering about--it was a shame to have secrets from him when he was so seldom at home! And as he spoke, he got up slowly from his comfortable chair by the fire. 'I'm afraid I must go down-stairs to the study,' he said. 'I have some letters to write, though I do feel very lazy about it.' But immediately a cry was set up. 'O papa, do wait till we've gone to bed,' said the three voices. 'We shall be going in half an hour.' So of course papa gave in.