The whole scene was as picturesque as possible; and Margaret was in her element now, and forgot to be either proud or shy, as she moved about among the children, enjoying their enjoyment. She did not know she was fond of girls and boys and babies, for she had never come in contact with them, though she had heard plenty of screaming and quarreling among those who lived in the house with her in times past. But here were sweet, well-bred, daintily-dressed little mortals, the very ideal of babyhood and childhood; and with the quick instinct of their age they speedily elected her as the beloved of their hearts. And as the road to a mother's heart lies through that of her children, before the day closed Margaret had won, without trying to do it, the admiration and the love of the six young mothers whose coming she had so dreaded. They, too, were relieved. They had not known exactly how they were to take this new inmate of the family, and had some misgivings, which they frankly confessed the next morning as they gathered around the library-fire to have a family confab. Margaret had established herself in what used to be the day-nursery, and which was still used as such when the grandchildren came home, and could have been seen with a baby on her lap, a little darling, blue-eyed Mabel standing behind her on the chair she occupied, with her arms around her neck, and two or three others clustered at her knee. "Well, girls," said Mrs. Grey, "what do you think of my Margaret?" "Oh, mamma!" cried Belle Heath, "it is _such_ a relief to find her what she is! Cyril and I were afraid some designing creature had taken you in. You know you are so easily taken in." "I know no such thing," said Mrs. Grey, greatly amused. "I know of no one so hard to impose on as I am." "'O wad some power the giftie gie us,'" quoted Frank Grey, who had just entered the room, after a late breakfast, and was bending his six-feet frame to kiss his mother. "I wish it _wad_," said his sister Laura, "for then you would be up in season for breakfast. It isn't nice to come down after everything has grown as cold as a stone. Does Lily let you do so at home?" "Lily set me the example," he said, laughing. "Besides, mamma grows indulgent in her declining years." "Perhaps I am a little indulgent," said Mrs. Grey. "Parents who are severe with their children when they are young, are apt to relax as they grow older." A shout of laughter followed this remark. Mrs. Grey looked around, surprised. "Now, what have I said that should make you so merry?" she asked, innocently. "That little word 'severe' lies at the bottom of the joke," said Frank. "The idea of our beautiful lady-mother insinuating that she was ever hard upon her offspring!" "At all events, if I could live my life over again, I would deal very differently with my children from what I did--especially with you two older ones."