"That's very good of you, Mr. Flinders!" cried Mrs. Grey, appreciating the sacrifice this offer cost. "Come next week, and we'll talk about accepting your proposition. We hope the Greys may be much better off by that time. Roberta has been to New York in reference to her father's patent, and we believe it is going to prove very valuable; we are waiting for news of its purchase now." Poor Mrs. Grey was not guileless in thus taking Farmer Flinders into her confidence. She knew that he would set afloat rumors of Sylvester Grey's posthumous success, and she was impatient for tardy justice to be done her husband. "I want to know!" exclaimed Mr. Flinders now, opening his eyes to their widest. "And that's what Roberta went away for--we was wonderin'. Very valuable, is it? I want to know! And Roberta went to attend to it! She's young for such business, seems's if! Still, she's al'ays been smart, Roberta has. Well, I'm sure I'm glad; you do deserve it. Sho! I've got a telegraph for you in my hand this minute! Here 'tis; I forgot it. I guess I'll be goin'. I'm comin' for Maimie on Saturday, so you be ready, Maimie. I sh'd think you'd want to see your folks. Hope the telegraph is good news; you do deserve it." And Mr. Flinders tore himself away--to spread the tidings of the Greys' approaching prosperity, Mrs. Grey felt contentedly sure. Wythie had torn open the telegram. "Will be in Fayre on ten-ten from New York on Thursday," she read. "It's signed William Armstrong; is that any of the gentlemen you saw, Rob?" "It's _one_ of them," cried Rob, eagerly seizing the telegram from Wythie's hand. "It's the old gentleman, and he's coming to-morrow! Oh, Mardy and other girls, don't you hope it will be all right?" "What will be all right? Hallo, Rob! We heard you were back, and we came to see the city polish you had acquired," cried Bruce. Battalion B had come in the front way unheard. "Oh, hallo, nice big boys," cried Rob, turning to meet them with outstretched hands and her most April face. "I didn't get much polish in two days, I fear me, but I think and hope I got what I went for." "Of course you did! We knew what would happen!" cried Basil. "We're going down to get your bag--our bag! We're anxious about it, so we're going to bring it up. Abbott told us you left it with him. And we're going to take you with us to identify us, so get your hat and come along, and on the way you can tell us all that you and Gotham did to each other." "I suppose I might go to market with these foolish but spotless giraffes, Mardy," said Rob. "Come with the giraffes, you little brown deer," remarked Bruce, in an undertone. "And order something special for luncheon to-morrow when Mr. Armstrong is here," continued Rob, ignoring Bruce. "Run along, Robin, and get ready while Wythie and I make out our list for you," said Mrs. Grey, with a brighter smile than her face had worn since the little grey house had lost its master. * * * * *