An inroad of boys, come to be inspected by their mother before starting on their errand, brought their father back to the table and the letter they were to take. Sandy, balancing on the arm of his chair, superintended its composition. "Father's put 'Dear Sir,' 'stead of 'Horrid Fellow,'" he announced aloud to the others. They were standing round the table; the smallest of them, aged three, could just rest his chin upon it, and was listening in solemn admiration of Sandy's sentiments. "Are you going to take all this horde with you, Marjorie?" her mother asked, her observant eyes glancing from collar to collar and from boot to boot. "Yes, mother; I thought it would economise matters. They're all mischievous, and will need apologising for some time; it is such a convenient way to school." "'My little sons will, I hope, make their 'pologies in person for their rudeness. I am extwemely sorry----'" sang out Sandy, raising himself on his elbows, dug into the table, the better to see what his father was writing. "Don't put 'little,' father," he pleaded; "he'll think it's Ross or Orme, 'stead of us." "I suppose you know what an apology is, Sandy?" Mr. Bethune bethought himself to inquire as he finished writing, and looked down at the curly head bobbing across his arm. "Ought to," grunted Sandy, panting in his efforts to plant his toes between the spokes of his father's chair. "Never do so no more--till next time." "If it is that, I shall be sorry, Sandy, in this case, because this gentleman's a stranger." "Oh," said Sandy, dropping to the floor and glancing up into the grave blue eyes, of which his own were an exact reproduction, without the gravity. [Illustration: "You look as if you had been in mischief," she remarked.--_p. 67._] "'Pologies is funny things," he said, pensively. "Mrs. Lytchett said we ought to be whipped when we made the peacocks scream, an' we 'pologises; and Charity boxed Dave's ears for treadin' on her fine new frock, an' he 'pologised--an' the Dean 'pologised back for her crossness. An' now, seems as if 'pologies did 'stead of leavin' off doin' what you want. Them peacocks screamed again to-day at dinner-time, an' to-morrer we----" A quick frown from his elder brother stopped the admission that was coming. "Your morality, your deductions, and your grammar are equally matched, Sandy," said his father. "Who is going to carry this letter?" "Me, me!" implored the baby, advancing a chubby hand, plucked from his mouth for the purpose. He looked like one of Sir Joshua's cherubs--nothing visible of him over the edge of the table but a round moon face of exquisite fairness, with a large background of soft white hat instead of cloud. "You'll see that the boys behave and apologise properly, Marjorie," her father said, sinking back into his chair with such an expression of peace on his face as quite compensated his young daughter for the annoyance of the errand on which she was conducting her young brothers. CHAPTER II.