A golden thread
Date: 2025-06-26T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Friendship -- Juvenile fiction; Siblings -- Juvenile fiction; Motherless families -- Juvenile fiction; Mortgages -- Juvenile fiction

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Title: A golden thread

Author: Marian Isabel Hurrell

Release date: June 26, 2025 [eBook #76385]

Language: English

Original publication: London: The Epworth Press, 1927

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GOLDEN THREAD ***

Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.

A GOLDEN THREAD

BY

MARIAN ISABEL HURRELL

London

THE EPWORTH PRESS

J. ALFRED SHARP

Printed in 1927.

———————————————————
MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY
RUSH & WARWICK, HARPUR PRINTING WORKS, BEDFORD.

CONTENTS

CHAP.

I. EILEEN AND THE EDITOR

II. "CORPORAL" BANNISTER

III. PROMOTION

IV. BUSY GARDENERS

V. TAKEN IN CHARGE

VI. CONFESSION

VII. A NARROW ESCAPE

VIII. DICK'S LETTER

IX. CISSIE VANE

X. THE LOST NIECE

XI. FRANK'S GIFT

XII. HOME AGAIN

A GOLDEN THREAD

CHAPTER I.

Eileen and the Editor.

"PLEASE are you Mr. Charlton, the editor of 'Sunny Hours?'"

The fourteen-year-old girl who put the question—Eileen Bannister by name—looked a little puzzled as she spoke.

The man who had just risen from a deck-chair under the shadow of a tree was not Eileen's idea of an editor at all: she had expected to see some one much older.

"Yes," was the answer, pleasantly spoken, "I am; what can I do for you?"

"Oh, please," replied Eileen, who was carrying a long and rather bulky envelope in her hand, "I want to talk to you for five minutes, if I may. I won't stay longer, because an editor's time is precious, and besides the others are all waiting for me in the lane."

"Take this chair, Miss—er—' began Derrick Charlton, placing his own at her disposal.

"My name is Eileen Bannister," supplied the girl, "and I write stories."

Here a flush came into her intelligent little face—Eileen was small for her age.

"But I won't take your chair," she went on politely; "this seat where your papers are will do for me."

So saying, Eileen, who was not troubled with shyness, removed the papers with respectful care to a wicker table near by, and seated herself for a five minutes' chat.

Mr. Charlton, almost against his will, began to feel interested and amused.

"And so you write stories, do you?" he said. "But how came you to track me here?"

"I was going up to the house to call upon you," was the answer, "only I saw you on the lawn, and so—"

"I don't mean that," interrupted Mr. Charlton; "I am wondering how it is that you knew anything at all about me. I came to this out-of-the-world spot, by doctor's orders, for a holiday—not to read or write a single story.'

"Oh, I 'am' sorry," said Eileen; "perhaps I had better go away at once."

"No, the five minutes 'aren't' up yet. Tell me how you came to know of my whereabouts."

"Well, it was like this: Mrs. Stannard, your landlady, told our maid Sarah all about you, and we were ever so interested."

"Oh indeed! As you know so much about me, don't you think you might tell me a little about yourself?"

"Yes, if you would like to hear," said Eileen, nothing loth. "There are four of us. I'm the eldest; and after me comes Edward—we call him Teddy for short; then there's Nora and Frank. Daddy is away just now doing some work for his firm in America—he is illustrating a book for them. Daddy is an awfully clever artist, and he says I take after him. I've brought some little pictures," she went on, "that I've done for a story I want you to read if you will. I 'do' hope you'll like them."

"No doubt I shall," was the reply, "if you are an 'awfully clever artist' like your father."

The tone was so kindly that the satire was quite lost.

"Aren't there any more of you?" went on Mr. Charlton next. "Surely you haven't come to an end of your family history yet. What about your mother?"

The question was keenly regretted an instant later.

A sudden shadow came into Eileen's pretty blue eyes.

"I—I can't talk about her, please," she said, with a little catch in her voice. "She—she died just about a year ago, and since then—since then our housekeeper, Mrs. Weston, has mothered us. She is ever so kind, and we're very fond of her, but of course she isn't like—"

"Oh no, of course not," said Mr. Charlton, as Eileen hesitated; "I can quite understand that."

For a full minute there was silence, and then Eileen went on in quite her usual voice.

"We haven't got much money," she said, "and that is why I am trying to earn some. If the mortgage—that is a debt that daddy owes on the house—is not paid off before Christmas, we shall have to leave The Gables, our dear old home. We shall just hate going, for we love every stick and stone of it."

Mr. Charlton, having seen and admired the pretty gabled dwelling, could fully sympathize.

"We haven't told many people yet," proceeded Eileen, "but of course daddy knows—we four children are going to help pay off the mortgage. We've bought a money-box, and all that we earn is going to be put into it. Isn't it a good idea?"

"It is indeed," smiled Mr. Charlton. "I wish you luck, but I think you've undertaken rather a big task."

"I know we have," replied Eileen, "a very big task. But we've prayed about it, and we mean to do our best."

Mr. Charlton was touched by the little girl's evident sincerity.

At this moment a shrill, clear whistle was heard, and Eileen rose to go.

"My five minutes 'are' up now," she said, "and I must say good-bye. That is Teddy whistling for me—I expect they're tired of waiting. Here is my story," she added, holding out the big envelope. "You 'will' read it, won't you? That is, if you think your doctor wouldn't mind."

"HERE IS MY STORY," SHE ADDED,
HOLDING OUT A BIG ENVELOPE.

Mr. Charlton burst into a ringing laugh.

"I don't suppose he'd mind very much," said he, his eyes twinkling. "Yes, I'll read it, and later on you shall know what I think of it."

Shortly after this, with a friendly handclasp, the two parted.

No sooner had Eileen joined her brothers and sister at the gate than she was besieged with questions. Mr. Charlton could hear their voices, but not the words they were saying.

"Well!" It was Teddy, who first spoke. "Did you see the editor?"

"Did he look at your story?" asked Nora, before Eileen had time to answer.

"Did you feel frightened of him?" asked Frank, with a grin on his good-natured young face. "I expect he growled at you, like they say old Grimwood does when he's got the gout." (Mr. Grimwood was one of the residents of the village who had the unenviable reputation of a very hasty temper.)

Eileen laughed merrily—a laugh which reached Mr. Charlton's ears, as he once more settled himself to his papers.

"That's a sound to do one's heart good," he murmured. "I think I shall have to make the acquaintance of those youngsters. Who knows? They may help to brighten up a deadly dull holiday."

Soon after this there was silence, the voices dying away in the distance—Eileen meanwhile doing her best to answer all questions satisfactorily.

It was a cloudless August morning. The air was sweet with the songs of birds, and perfumed with the scent of roses wafted from cottage gardens. More than one turned to look after the children as they wended their way homewards, for owing to their friendly dispositions, they were great favourites in the village. Hazlenook, the pretty country spot where they lived, was situated near the sea, a fact which rendered it a desirable place for those who were seeking a quiet holiday, combined with bracing air.

The young people were just about to pass the door of the village shoemaker, when a gruff voice called from the open window.

CHAPTER II.

"Corporal" Bannister.

"CORPORAL, I want to speak to you." It was Henry Henderson, the shoemaker, or "The old Sergeant," as he was known in the village, who spoke.

In an instant Frank, whom he addressed, made answer:

"All right, sergeant, I'm coming."

And with this, he left the others, and made his way into the little low-ceilinged shop to have a chat with the old man, for the two were excellent friends.

"I want to know," said Henderson, "when you are going to drill them recruits of yours again. I ain't seen no soldiering on the Green for nearly a week. You'll never get your third stripe if you neglect your duty."

"It hasn't been my fault, sergeant," replied the little lad, "really and truly. There have been so many things to hinder me, one way and another."

"Well, well, if it wasn't your fault, I won't scold you. What about to-morrow afternoon?"

"To-morrow—Saturday? Yes, I can manage it. You might put up a notice in the window to let the boys know, will you?"

This was the usual proceeding, and the old sergeant smilingly agreed. In his day he had been a brave and gallant soldier, and right well had he fought for his country.

"What time shall we say?" he asked next.

"At two o'clock," answered Frank; "and mind you put 'sharp.'"

"All right, young master. I suppose you'll be in uniform?"

"Of course I shall, sergeant. I say,—" (here Frank looked a little pleading), "when do you think I shall be able to get my third stripe?"

"All in good time, sonnie," replied the old man; "you're a bit young yet to be a full sergeant."

"Now then, 'Enery," (here came a woman's voice from the little parlour behind the shop), "when you've done with your play-actin', you might as well come in and 'ave your dinner. If you don't, I shall 'ave the 'ash all done to smash.'

"Didn't know you could make up poetry, my dear," answered Henderson, in no way disturbed.

He loved this bit of "play-acting," as his wife called it, with "Master Frank," and no greater delight had he than to stand at his shop door, which faced the village green, and watch the "corporal" drill his "men," a band of village lads whose ages varied from six to ten. Soldiering was a very favourite game with Frank, and occasionally his brother and sisters would consent to being drilled just for the sake of pleasing him.

On Frank's ninth birthday his father had given him a suit of khaki—the child had preferred it to any other present. But it was old Henderson who had supplied the stripes, and raised him to the rank of corporal. It was he, too, who had taught the little lad the drill, Frank proving a very apt pupil.

The notice which Henderson put in his shop window early on Saturday morning ran thus:

Corporal Bannister
will Drill his Soldiers this Afternoon
at Two o'clock on the Green.
New Recruits Wanted.

And new recruits came, as it proved. There were twenty lads gathered together on the Green when the corporal made his appearance—a sturdy, well-set-up little figure dressed in khaki.

Amongst the interested onlookers during the afternoon was Mr. Charlton. He chanced to take up his stand by old Henderson's shop. And the shoemaker, having the leisure, and being in a chatty frame of mind, told him many things concerning the Bannister family.

He learnt of Frank's longing to be a sergeant, and discovered, moreover, that Henderson had been told all about the mortgage-box.

"My only fear," said the old man, "is that it should spoil them nice youngsters and turn them into money-grubbers."

"I don't think there is much fear of that," replied Mr. Charlton; and he was right.

BOTH BOYS PEERED OVER THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF.

After the drilling was over that afternoon, the corporal and several of the other lads made up their minds to have a ramble by the sea-shore. This was a very frequent ending up to the game of soldiering when there happened to be time.

Amongst the village boys was a lad by the name of David Perry, who was a favourite with Frank.

He was the son of a widow lady who was very poor, and who lived in quite a little cottage near the sea.

The two had interests in common, and so it happened that they presently drifted from the others and climbed by slow degrees to the top of the cliff.

Feeling hot and tired, they sat down for a while to rest, and were just in the middle of a chat when loud cries from below fell on their ears.

"Help! Help!" The words rang out again and again.

Frank and David knew in a moment that something was wrong with their comrades. Both boys peered over the edge of the cliff, and the sight which met their eyes made them lose something of the healthy colour in their cheeks.

Midway on the cliffs, about twenty feet from the shore, were five or six of the boys, too frightened to move one way or another.

Instead of taking the winding path by which they could have ascended in perfect safety, they had attempted to climb the steeper part.

"Oh, Frank," cried David, "whatever 'shall' we do? They'll fall in a minute and—and—"

David was almost in tears; he was not of a particularly brave disposition.

"We've got to go and help them," said Frank, "and look sharp about it too."

"I—I can't," half sobbed poor David. "It makes me dizzy even to think about it."

"All right then," replied Frank, half impatiently. "You stop where you are, and I'll go."

David did as he was bidden. Without another word Frank started on his work of rescue. Fortunately, he knew the cliffs as well as any little boy in the village. Close to where the lads were standing in such peril was a narrow path which, if they could only keep their heads, they could reach without much difficulty. But at the present moment they were too paralysed with fear to realize anything except their danger.

Frank took the winding path, and well before five minutes had passed he was within a few feet of the terrified lads.

At the sight of him, they redoubled their cries for help. By an unlucky chance, Frank took one look at the depth below, and for a moment his brave little heart failed him.

Then a sudden thought of "Mother" flashed into his mind—of his mother who had said that God never failed to watch over His children. His fears then seemed to leave him, and he answered the shouts for aid in quite a steady voice.

"Don't be frightened," said he, "it's all right; you've got nothing to be afraid of. I'll help you."

And the boys felt sure he would.

"All you've got to do," went on Frank, "is just to step along that narrow edge of cliff and make for me. There's a path where I'm standing, only you can't see it because it's nearly hidden by bushes."

"We—we're afraid to move," faltered out Willie Benson, the foremost of the lads; "if we do, we shall fall."

"Stupids!" cried little Frank. "Do as you are told!" His voice was peremptory. "Willie, you catch hold of that bush this minute; I'll come and meet you part of the way, and hold out my hand."

Frank was as good as his word.

Willie hesitated for a second, and then took the first step towards safety. Finding the undergrowth well able to bear the strain put upon it, he presently gained a certain amount of pluck.

There was almost breathless silence as he moved along step by step nearer his young rescuer. At last, his hand was gripped in Frank's tight clasp, and in less time than it takes to tell he was out of danger.

Then came hope and strength to all the others. One by one they followed Willie's example, and very soon, to the relief of everybody concerned, their perils were a thing of the past.

By five o'clock that evening old Henderson had heard the story, not from Frank, but from David Perry, who had watched the whole scene with fascinated gaze from the top of the cliff.

"Bless the boy!" he muttered, after David had left him to spread the news in the village. "I knew he was made of the right stuff—plucky little chap that he is! He deserves to be a sergeant, and a sergeant he shall be!"

And this was how little "Corporal" Bannister won his third stripe.

CHAPTER III.

Promotion.

"WELL, children," said Mrs. Weston at breakfast, on the Monday which followed the cliff adventure, "how are you going to amuse yourselves to-day?"

She was very fond of her young charges, and was remarkably easy-going where their liberty was concerned.

"We haven't made up our minds yet," said Teddy, spreading his bread and butter plentifully with marmalade. "Earn some money if we can, very likely, for the mortgage-box."

Mrs. Weston smiled. The matter which at first was intended to be kept as a great secret was now known to about half a dozen people.

"Earning money isn't quite such an easy, matter as you think, my dear," said she; "you are not going to get anything for nothing."

"We don't mind work," said Nora, "if it is in a good cause."

At this they all laughed; for if there was a lazy member of the Bannister family, it was pretty Nora.

Nothing more was said just then upon the subject, for at this moment the post came, bringing with it a long, interesting letter from their father, which was addressed to Eileen.

This she read aloud for the enjoyment of all—a letter from daddy somehow seemed a bit of himself.

After breakfast—it was Teddy's suggestion—the children arranged to spend the day out of doors, and, a basket of goodies being packed for lunch, they prepared to start forth on their way.

"Now, mind you take care of yourselves," said Mrs. Weston, as she bade them good-bye at the garden gate, "and don't be late home for tea."

"We'll take care of ourselves right enough, Mrs. Weston dear," replied Eileen. "Don't you worry."

A few minutes after this, having promised to be home in time for tea, they were lost to sight round a corner of the road.

As they passed down the village street, old Henderson, who was standing at his shop door, caught sight of them.

"Good-morning, young ladies and gentlemen," said he, as they drew near; "I've been wanting to see one or the other of you—Master Frank in particular."

"What was it you wanted to see me about, sergeant?" asked Frank, with quick interest, little dreaming of the honour which was in store for him.

"Just to say this, Master Frank; I'm right proud of you for the part you played in rescuing them youngsters on the cliff, and I should think your brother and sisters are too."

Frank, in telling the story of the cliff adventure at home, had made very little of it, consequently not one in the household realized how truly courageous the little fellow had been.

"It was jolly lucky, he didn't lose his head," said Teddy.

"It was jolly lucky, as you say, Master Teddy, he didn't lose his life" (this severely); "I don't think you quite understand how plucky he was."

Frank, now rosy red, tried to turn the conversation, but Henderson was not so inclined.

"You've got your promotion now, young sir," he went on, looking at Frank, with the kindest pair of eyes; "I shall have your third stripe ready for you to-morrow." And here the old man saluted.

Frank, feeling half an inch taller, did the same. "How awf'ly kind of you," he said, in delight; "I'd rather be sergeant than King of England!"

"Play-actin' again, I do declare!" It was Mrs. Henderson's voice. She had bustled in from the little parlour behind the shop and had overheard part of the conversation. "Well, I never did, 'Enery; you are a silly old man!"

'Enery chuckled with amusement.

"Yes, so I be, and you're a silly old woman! Where are those apples you've been saving up for these youngsters?"

"I've got 'em here, close and handy," replied the good soul, coming forward with a basket, which she had taken up from the shelf near by. "I think, my dears," she went on, turning to the children, "you'll find plenty to go all round."

True enough they did, a goodly store which made a very welcome addition to their luncheon-basket. Shortly after this, with grateful thanks and friendly good-byes, they went on their way.

Right proud was the "sergeant" to receive the congratulations of his brother and sisters. But Eileen and Teddy, realizing from Henderson's words more of the risks he had run, warned him never to do such a thing again.

"Don't suppose it would happen another time," said Frank; "if it did—well, I should do just the same." And he spoke truly.

Ten minutes later they were passing an old house which stood on the outskirts of the village. It was a dreary, neglected looking place, called The Laurels, and the garden was a mass of weeds.

"What a lark it would be," said Teddy, "to go up to the house and ask Mr. Grimwood for a day's gardening!"

Mr. Grimwood, the owner, by the way, was a gentleman who was considerably more feared than loved in the village.

"We could earn some money for the mortgage-box," went on Teddy, as nobody made any reply.

"Why, Teddy, what a splendid ideal!" cried Eileen, suddenly taking his suggestion seriously.

"You never would do such a thing as that!" exclaimed Nora. "He would snap your head off."

"Cheek, I call it," said Frank; "fancy even thinking of such a thing!"

"Cheek or no cheek," said Teddy, "if Eileen is game, we'll do it! You kids can stop outside the gates while we go up and ask."

"HULLO!" HE SAID. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

But Nora and Frank, though they strongly disapproved, had no intention of being left out of anything. Three minutes later the four youngsters presented themselves at the door of The Laurels. Their knock was answered, as it chanced, by Mr. Grimwood himself, who happened to be in the hall.

"Hullo!" he said, in a voice far from encouraging. "What do you want?"

He knew the children very well by sight, but as young people were not in his line, he had never cultivated their acquaintance.

"Please," said Teddy, feeling rather small, "we—we wondered if you would like us to do a day's gardening."

Mr. Grimwood was somewhat taken aback. As a matter of fact, a gardener was just what he was needing. The man he usually employed had left him a few weeks previously, and he had difficulty in finding another.

"What do you mean?" he inquired gruffly, looking from Teddy to the others. "I don't want any of your impudence!"

Then Eileen spoke—Eileen, with her pretty blue eyes, which were her chief beauty, raised half-pleadingly to his face. Few could resist the Bannister children. They were full of faults, it is true, but their winning dispositions gained them friends everywhere.

"Please, Mr. Grimwood," she said, "it isn't meant for impudence. We would love to do a day's gardening if you would let us, and we'd only charge a very little."

"H'm," said Mr. Grimwood, "and that little a good deal more than you're worth."

But he was thinking over the suggestion all the same. After some further conversation, to the delight of Eileen and Teddy, and to the disgust of Nora and Frank, he agreed to employ them; and if they did the work satisfactorily, to pay them two shillings each at four o'clock.

CHAPTER IV.

Busy Gardeners.

"I'LL show you what I want you to do, and then I will leave you to your work."

With these words Mr. Grimwood led the way to the lawn on the right side of the house, where there were three large overgrown flower-beds. Here flourished flowers and weeds together in the friendliest of fashions.

"I've been away," he said, "or these beds would have been looked after properly. I don't trouble much about the rest of the garden."

Although Mr. Grimwood did not say so, the three flower-beds had once been the pride and delight of his wife, whom he had lost several years previously.

"I suppose you know a flower from a weed?" he said, after giving several directions.

"I should just think we do, sir," replied Frank, whom he chanced to address. And so said all the others.

"If you have cleared these beds of weeds before four o'clock—you needn't kill yourselves with hard work, you know—you can start on weeding the paths." Mr. Grimwood was actually beginning to look quite pleasant, and the young people found themselves losing their fears of him.

"So we will, sir," said Teddy. "Pity we haven't got a man to help us; we could do no end of work then."

Mr. Grimwood thought awhile.

"Well," said he, "if you can get a man to help you, I don't mind, so long as he is honest and respectable. By-the-by, what about your lunch?"

"Oh, we brought it with us," said Eileen; "we meant to picnic out somewhere to-day. So you needn't trouble, thank you all the same."

Mr. Grimwood smiled in half-amused fashion, for he had no intention of inviting his young gardeners in to lunch.

Soon after this, having told them where the tools were kept, he left them to their work. Nora and Frank, now looking upon it in the light of an adventure, began to enjoy themselves, and the four children gave themselves whole-heartedly, and lightheartedly too, to the task before them. The idea of earning money for the mortgage-box lent it a charm which otherwise it might not have possessed.

By lunch-time they were very hungry, and it was not long before sandwiches, cakes, apples, and home-made lemonade had all vanished. It was then that Nora, feeling that she had done enough gardening to last her a month, made a suggestion.

"Don't you think it would be a good plan," said she, "to get a man to help us for the afternoon? Some one might be glad of the job."

Eileen, who was a bit tired, thought it a very good idea, and, with the approval of the others, presently started off to try to find a man in the village.

The first person she chanced to meet, not far from the gates of The Laurels, was Mr. Charlton. And after a friendly greeting on both sides, Eileen told him the story.

"Why shouldn't I do?" he asked, with a twinkle of fun in his eyes. "I'm not very much of a gardener, it is true, but I'm honest and respectable; and, what is more, I'll work for nothing."

"Oh, Mr. Charlton," cried Eileen, "it would be just splendid of you, if you would—do you really mean it?"

"Of course I do. I was only going out for a lonely walk, and I can assure you an hour or two of gardening would suit me far better."

THEY MADE THEIR WAY TO THE SHADY SPOT.

With this he turned back with Eileen, and together they made their way to the shady spot where the little girl had left her brothers and sister.

Meanwhile she was just aching to know if he had accepted her story and little sketches, but felt that she dared not ask the question.

Teddy, Nora, and Frank stared with amazement when Eileen returned with Mr. Charlton and introduced him as their helper for the afternoon.

"He's going to do it all for nothing too," she said presently, with the greatest glee, when Mr. Charlton by his friendly manner had made the youngsters all feel at ease with him.

"It's most awfully good of you, Mr. Charlton," said Teddy, "but—but I'm afraid it's troubling you."

"Not at all; I shall quite enjoy it," was the reply. "Our old gardener at home used to say I didn't know a weed from a 'wegetable marrer,' but I think I've improved since then."

The children laughed at this.

"Fancy an editor doing gardening," said Nora. Her idea of an editor being some one who was far too learned and wise to care about digging and hoeing.

"Why not?" he said with a smile. "Ah, that reminds me," he added quickly (here he turned to Eileen), "I've something to say to you. I shall be very pleased to use your little story and sketches in the children's pages of 'Sunny Hours;' they are really quite good."

Eileen flushed positively crimson with delight.

"Oh, Mr. Charlton!" she gasped; she could scarcely believe her ears. "How simply 'lovely!'"

"Glad you are pleased," said he, smiling into the radiant little face. "Go on as you have begun, and one day, who knows? You may do ever so well."

It was fully five minutes before the excitement caused by Mr. Charlton's announcement had died down; Teddy, Nora, and Frank being nearly as proud and pleased as Eileen herself.

After this, the five gardeners prepared to set to work, watched, little as they knew it, by a pair of curious eyes from the window of the house.

Mr. Grimwood had gone into the neighbouring town on business, and was not expected home till later in the afternoon.

Eileen, towards three o'clock, was hoeing in a part of the garden some distance from the others, and was hidden from them by tall rows of scarlet runners.

Suddenly she heard a voice behind her, which gave her quite a start.

"Hullo! I've been watching you for ever so long from the window!"

Eileen turned around, and, standing close by she saw a lad of about Teddy's age, with a face so discontented and miserable that her heart filled with pity.

"Hullo!" she said in answer. "And who are you, pray?"

Her smile was so winning that the boy almost smiled too—but not quite.

"I'm Dick Woodbridge," he answered, "if you want to know; and what's your name?"

"I'm Eileen Bannister," said the girl; "so now we are properly introduced. Where did you come from?" she added. "I never heard your footsteps."

"No; I slipped around quietly, because I didn't want to speak to any one but you."

Dick Woodbridge, although Eileen did not realize it, was inclined to be both shy and unsociable.

"Why?" she queried in surprise.

"Because I like the look of you best of them all. You aren't so pretty as that other girl—your sister, I suppose—but you've got a nice sort of 'understanding' face. How came you all here gardening like this?"

Then Eileen explained, the lad so far forgetting his own troubles, whatever they were, as to feel quite interested. Eileen told him about the mortgage-box, at which Dick really "did" smile.

"Fancy you kids thinking of earning money enough to pay off a mortgage," said he; "you must be a green lot!"

Eileen flushed a little, not quite liking his tone, but she went on pleasantly. "Now I've told you something about ourselves," she said, "I think you might say who 'you' are, and where you came from."

"I've told you my name once," was the rather sullen answer; "I'm to live here for good, or at least till father and mother come back from India. Uncle Nat—old Grimwood, you know—is my guardian; my other one has just died. I liked him most awfully, but I hate Uncle Nat. I only came yesterday, and I wish I'd never seen the place; the house is like a prison."

"Perhaps," said Eileen gently, "you'll like it better as time goes on."

"No, I shan't!" (This almost fiercely). "I shall hate it worse. If only I could live with mother and dad, but they say the climate would kill me. I'm pretty sure this hole of a place will."

"No, no, it won't," was Eileen's soothing reply; "I expect we shall all be friendly with you, and then you won't feel so lonely."

CHAPTER V.

Taken in Charge.

AT the prospect of a friendship with the Bannister family, Dick's face brightened.

"I should like it very much," said he, "if you think your father and mother won't mind. Some people won't have anything to do with me after they have known me a little while."

Eileen thought it best to take no notice of this latter statement. "Father is in America," she said, "and mother—"

"Yes, your mother?" this as Eileen hesitated.

"Mother is—dead," she replied softly and reverently.

The boy looked sympathetic.

"Oh, that's hard luck for you," he said.

"Yes," answered Eileen, blinking away a sudden tear (she hoped Dick had not seen it); "we miss her ever so much: she was so lovely and so dear. But somehow we feel," she went on, the sunny expression coming back into her face, "that she isn't so very far away, and for her sake, we try to do what is right, so as to please her, you know."

Eileen spoke truly; the gentle influence of the mother who was with God was like a golden thread in each young life.

Dick was quiet after this for fully a minute; he was more touched than he cared to show. He seemed to see himself as he was—selfish and wayward—and then as he would like to be. Unconsciously his young soul had received an upward lift.

"We've got the dearest dad in the world," said Eileen next. And she was just about to give Dick further details of the family history, when they were joined by Teddy and Nora. Shortly after this, the introductions became general, and Dick so far forgot his shyness as to become quite sociable.

Mr. Charlton—who, it was plain to see, had a way with young people—presently suggested that Dick should help in the weeding, which the lad was only too willing to do.

When Mr. Grimwood returned home shortly before four o'clock to find six gardeners at work, he was a little taken aback. But the results were far too satisfactory for him to make any complaint.

Mr. Charlton explained his presence there in pleasant, easy fashion. And Mr. Grimwood, discovering in him—after a few questions—the son of an old acquaintance, became quite affable.

Punctually on the stroke of four, the Bannister children received their earnings, in addition to which, to their delight, Mr. Grimwood presented them with half a crown.

"Which was only right," declared Teddy, after the good-byes had been said, "considering he got Mr. Charlton's help for nothing."

And so the first money for the mortgage-box was earned. And, what was better still, that day a seed had been sown in a self-willed young heart which was destined to bring forth fruit in the days to come.

It could not be said that Mrs. Weston approved of the day's gardening. But so pleased were the children with the fruit of their work, that she could not find it in her heart to scold very much. And something happened in a day or so which put the incident in the background.

Teddy was taken in charge by a stalwart policeman!

It happened in this way. Teddy had gone on an errand for Mrs. Weston into the neighbouring town of Chelsford, the others amusing themselves in the garden; and the August afternoon being very warm, he did not hurry homeward.

On his return, in rather a lonely part of the road, he met Dick Woodbridge. Dick's face wore a sullen and clouded look, as though everything had gone wrong with him. As it chanced, that day he had received a severe reprimand from his uncle for not speaking the exact truth.

HE FLUNG THE STONE WITH ALL HIS MIGHT.

"Hullo, old chap," said Teddy, as they drew near to one another, "where are you going?"

"Nowhere in particular," answered Dick, his face lightening a bit at the cheery greeting.

"Then you'd better come along home with me," went on Teddy, "and I'll show you my rabbits; I've got some beauties."

"I'd like to awfully," replied Dick; "I've got nothing else to do."

So the matter was settled. Five minutes later the lads came to a turning where four roads met, and standing facing them was a fire-alarm, the scarlet of its paint glowing fiercely in the sun.

"I wonder," said Dick, a sudden thought striking him, "how near I could throw a stone at the glass without breaking it."

"Take my advice, and don't attempt it," said sensible Teddy; "you might smash it, you know."

Dick, heedless of the warning, stooped down and picked up a large-sized stone from the road.

"Don't be such a silly young donkey!" cried Teddy. "You'll get into no end of trouble if you 'do' break the glass. Mr. Grimwood—he's the magistrate here—can be awfully severe when he likes, and there have been two or three false alarms lately."

At the mention of his uncle's name Dick's lips took an obstinate curve.

"I tell you, I 'will' do it, if only to spite him, and, what's more, I'll call up the fire-engine."

So saying, he flung the stone with all his might. An instant later there fell on their ears a sound of broken glass.

Then, true to his word, the headstrong lad went deliberately forward and set the machinery in motion for calling up the fire-engine.

"You've gone and done it now," said Teddy, looking angry and startled. "What are you going to say for yourself when you are found out?"

"I don't mean to be found out," answered Dick, now frightened at what he had done. And, without another word, he turned and ran homewards as fast as he could.

Teddy gave a whistle of dismay, and, as he had no wish to be mixed up with the affair, decided that he too would make for home as soon as possible.

Five minutes had scarcely passed before he heard the sound of a clanging bell—already the fire-engine (the station being near by) was speeding on its journey.

The funny side of things struck Teddy at this moment, and he could not repress a grin. What a story it would be to tell the others!

But Teddy, as it happened, was not destined to get home yet awhile. On and on he walked, hurrying a little in his eagerness to tell the tale to his brothers and sisters. Suddenly, however, he heard a loud, peremptory call from behind him.

"Hi, there, you youngster, stop!"

Teddy turned to see a policeman racing towards him on his bicycle.

In a few minutes the man in blue was by his side. Hurriedly dismounting, he laid a heavy hand on Teddy's shoulder.

"I've caught you at last, young man," said he, in by no means an agreeable tone of voice. "Now what have you got to say for yourself?"

"What do you mean?" said Teddy, answering the policeman's question by another.

"It's all very fine to pretend you don't know," was the reply. "That's the third time you've called up the fire-engine for nothing. Third time lucky—at least for me."

"I've had nothing whatever at all to do with it," declared the boy, but he whitened a little under his tan.

"Don't tell me no lies, now." The constable's tone was fierce; he was a new-comer to the neighbourhood, and knew little if anything of the Bannister family. "I want the truth."

"Well, you've got it." Teddy was beginning to feel angry as well as frightened. "You had better be careful, I think, what you're saying."

There was no look of guilt in Teddy's honest blue eyes, but, as P.C. Jones said to himself, "You can't always judge by appearances."

"H'm, if 'you' didn't do it," said he, "perhaps you can tell me who did?"

It was on the tip of Teddy's tongue to say, but he suddenly pulled himself up. Tale-telling was not a weakness of the Bannister boys and girls.

"Ho, I've caught you there," said the man, seeing Teddy's hesitation; "of course you can't tell me, seeing it was yourself! Now you come along with me; and you'd better mind your p's and q's, or you'll spend the night in jail."

"Rubbish!" said Teddy defiantly. "They don't put boys my age in prison."

"We shall see what Mr. Grimwood says about that," was the curt reply; "now, then, come along."

Teddy, feeling very sorry for himself, decided it was no use to do otherwise than obey.

Together he and P.C. Jones marched along the lonely road, then on through the village street straight up to The Laurels.

CHAPTER VI.

Confession.

"IS Mr. Grimwood at home?"

Hannah, the maid servant who opened the door of The Laurels in answer to the constable's important knock, eyed both him and his youthful charge with some curiosity, as she replied:

"Yes, but he is engaged just now; however, if you want to see him particular. I'll tell him."

The policeman stated that his business "was" particular, and, at Hannah's bidding, he and Teddy stepped inside the hall.

The maid, recognizing in the lad one of the young gardeners of a few days previously, mentally wondered what was wrong. But her curiosity was not destined to be satisfied just then.

Within a short space of time P.C. Jones and his prisoner were ushered into the dining-room, where sat Mr. Grimwood and—to Teddy's relief—Mr. Charlton. Somehow he felt that in Mr. Charlton he would find a friend. A few words from the constable explained the situation; and Mr. Grimwood, having listened intently to all he had to tell, then turned to Teddy, and asked him in a very severe tone of voice what he had to say for himself.

"Please, sir," said Teddy, facing his judge bravely, although something of his healthy colour had faded, "it isn't true—not a word of it; I didn't do it!"

"I don't believe you," was the sharp retort; "boys nowadays don't know how to speak the truth."

Teddy next looked with an appealing glance at Mr. Charlton.

"You—you believe me," he said, "don't you?"

"Yes, Teddy," was the reply, "I do."

"Thank you, sir," was all the boy said, but a rush of tears suddenly dimmed his eyes.

These, however, he checked manfully. Mr. Grimwood, not best pleased at the interruption, then proceeded.

"Look here, Bannister," said he, "three times lately the fire brigade has been called up owing to false alarms, and I have vowed I will make an example of the culprit when found out. But owing to your youth, and out of consideration for your family, I will temper justice with mercy. If you will confess straight out your share in the matter, I will look over it this once."

"I can't confess, sir," said Teddy in distress, "because I didn't do it—really and truly."

"But the constable says you were seen near the spot just about the time it happened."

Teddy was silent, this being only too true.

"May 'I' ask one or two questions, Mr. Grimwood?" here spoke Mr. Charlton courteously.

"Yes, if you wish," was the somewhat curt response.

"Teddy," the boy's heart warmed at the kindliness of Mr. Charlton's tone, "were you alone all the while this afternoon?"

Teddy flushed. "No, sir," he answered, "I wasn't."

"Who was with you?"

"Please," said Teddy, "I would rather not say. I am going to 'make' him speak up for himself."

"Then you are shielding somebody?"

"Y—yes," faltered Teddy.

"Who is it?" Mr. Grimwood rapped out the question. "I'll have none of this nonsense, please."

Teddy set his lips firmly—he could be very obstinate if he chose.

"You don't mean to tell me?" The tone was awesome enough to frighten a stouter heart than Teddy's. But, all the same, he stood his ground.

Mr. Grimwood began to wonder for the first time whether the policeman had not made a mistake.

DICK, WHITE AND TREMBLING, ENTERED THE ROOM.

Just as he was about to speak again, the dining-room door, which had been left ajar, was suddenly thrown wide open, and Dick, white to the lips and trembling from head to foot, entered the room. He had been playing the part of listener.

Mr. Grimwood looked at him sharply.

"What are you here for?" he said. "I didn't send for you."

"No, but I just 'had' to come," said Dick in a quivering voice, "because—because—it was not Teddy who did it. I—I—"

"Go on, please!" Mr. Grimwood's tone cut like a knife.

"I did it, Uncle Nat; Teddy will tell you how it happened."

Teddy, feeling immensely relieved, and seeing also that Dick was too upset to tell the tale himself, spoke out freely, begging at the same time that Dick might be forgiven.

For a moment or so Mr. Grimwood was silent. He was feeling bitterly disappointed in his sister's son. Then he turned to the policeman.

"You may go, Jones," said he; "you did your duty, and I commend you. The matter can now rest in my hands."

And P.C. Jones, with a respectful bow and an apologetic glance in Teddy's direction, left the room.

"I beg your pardon, Bannister," said Mr. Grimwood (it was a great deal for him to say); "it appears that Mr. Charlton knows you better than I do. As for you, Dick—" (here he turned to his young nephew), "I shall have more to say to you later on."

The punishment which was meted out to Dick was pretty severe, but that which hurt him most of all was the cut which he received from the Bannister boys and girls the next time they met.

The day which followed this slight, Mr. Charlton chanced to come across the lad, lying full length on the grassy sward near the head of the cliffs, crying bitterly. It was in a lonely part, and Dick had not reckoned upon any one seeing his tears. His face was hidden in his hands, and his whole frame was shaking with sobs.

"Why, Dick," said Mr. Charlton (the boy had not heard his footsteps), "whatever is the matter, old chap?"

They were the first kind words that Dick had heard for days. For a moment or so the boy looked angry and sullen, not feeling best pleased at being thus caught. However, he could not resist the kindliness in the questioner's eyes.

"Everything's . . . the . . . matter," said the boy brokenly. "The Bannisters won't have anything to do with me now, and I—I haven't got a f—friend in the world."

"There I think you're wrong." Mr. Charlton here sat down beside the lad and laid his hand upon his shoulder. "If you will have me, I shall be only too pleased to be your friend."

"Do you really mean it?" cried Dick, a sudden light coming into his tear-stained eyes. "It's—it's most awfully good of you! I'm afraid you won't want me for a friend long though," he added, the cloud coming into his face again; "I'm bad all through."

"Not quite all through, I think," was the reply. "You want to be different, don't you?"

"Yes, oh, you don't know how I long to be good; I hate being what I am!"

"That's the first step," said Mr. Charlton encouragingly. "Now, what you must do is to ask your Captain to come and take control of the ship. It's plain to see you can't manage it yourself."

"What do you mean?" asked Dick, looking puzzled.

Then Mr. Charlton explained his meaning, the words that he said sinking down deeply into the young undisciplined heart.

"With Christ for your Captain, my boy," he finished, "you can never come to shipwreck; only you must take Him on board at once—delays are dangerous, you know."

"I'll ask Him to-night," replied Dick, in a voice which trembled with feeling, "and—and I'll never forget what you've said."

Shortly after this, the conversation drifted into other channels, and later on—Dick feeling that he had found a friend indeed—the two parted.

CHAPTER VII.

A Narrow Escape.

IT was Mr. Charlton's intention to act as peacemaker between Dick and the Bannister children, but, after all, his services were not required.

"Teddy," said Eileen one morning, about two or three days after the boy's unpleasant experience of being taken in charge, "I think it was rather mean of us to cut Dick as we did; he owned up, and he couldn't do more than that."

"So he ought to own up," replied Teddy grumpily. He was still feeling sore. "He had no right to run off in that way, leaving the blame to fall on me."

"But he didn't know you were going to be blamed for it," said Eileen, "or perhaps he wouldn't have done it."

"H'm," muttered Teddy; "it's all very well for you to talk; you didn't have to face old Grimwood as I did."

"Well, it's all over now," put in Frank; "I think Eileen is right."

"I don't," said Nora; "I think Teddy is right. I vote we don't have anything more to do with him."

But Eileen held her ground.

"I don't believe mother would have liked us to be disagreeable to him," she said in a soft little voice; "she was so gentle and kind to everybody."

A subdued look came into Nora's pretty little face, and the crossness died out of Teddy's eyes as by magic.

"Perhaps you are right," he said after a short pause; "it 'was' rather nasty of us to cut him dead as we did."

"Yes," said Nora thoughtfully; "I fancy you 'are' right after all, Eileen."

"I'm sure she is," decided Frank; "now the next thing we've got to do is to make it up with him."

To this they presently all agreed. The golden thread of influence was shining brighter than they knew.

Little did the four children think under what circumstances they were next to meet Dick Woodbridge.

Their conversation, which was taking place in the hall shortly after breakfast, was here interrupted by Mrs. Weston.

"Boys," said she, "Mike Dennis is at the side door, and he wants to know whether you would like a ride on his pony."

"Rather!" said Teddy. "What say you, Frank?"

"Rather!" echoed Frank delightedly.

Mike Dennis was the son of a farmer who lived near by, and he and the Bannister boys and girls were capital friends. He had several times before lent them his pony. In a few seconds, the four children were interviewing Mike at the side door.

"Joey's a bit fresh this morning, Teddy, old chap," said Mike after a little chat; "so don't touch him with a whip."

Teddy promised both for himself and Frank.

And presently Mike, after a few further instructions, went into the village.

In half an hour's time Joey the pony was brought round to the front door by one of the farm lads. By nature he was gentle as a lamb, and Mrs. Weston watched her four young charges depart without a single qualm as to any harm coming to them.

Teddy was the first to mount when they reached the meadow close by. "As he's a bit fresh," he said, "perhaps it is as well that I should work off some of his friskiness." Which he did, to his great enjoyment.

Afterwards came Frank's turn, and Joey proved as good as gold, trotting or cantering round the field at his rider's will.

Then Nora declared that she meant to have a ride. And as she was fairly at home in Joey's saddle, having ridden him several times, the boys agreed to let her have her way. And Eileen, bidding her be very careful, helped her to mount.

THE PONY WAS MAKING STRAIGHT FOR THE LEVEL CROSSING.

All went well until the little girl drew near the gate which opened on to the road. Here two young urchins were watching her with interest. As she passed, one of the boys gave a loud shout.

"Hip, hip, hooray!" he yelled. "There's a fine circus-rider for you!"

"Hip, hip, hooray!" cried the other.

The sudden noise startled Joey so much, that he perked up his ears and took a rush forward. Had not Nora been sitting pretty firmly, she must have been thrown.

"Stop, Joey, stop!" she panted. But her words were spoken in vain.

Joey galloped on and on, to the dismay of all the onlookers, the culprits included. Nora herself was thoroughly frightened.

"Sit tight!" shouted Teddy. "He'll quiet down presently."

But Joey did not soon quiet down. Galloping through one meadow, he made his way into the next, the gate of which stood wide open.

Well indeed might Nora now be afraid, for the pony was making straight for the level crossing of the railway. By this time he was beginning to slacken speed as though the race was tiring him out. Nevertheless on and on he went, until he had planted his feet right in the middle of the railway track. Here he stopped trembling as with fear—on the summer air there had fallen the shrill whistle of an oncoming train! Nora sat as one paralysed with fright, powerless to move.

A loud cry rang out from close by.

"Jump off! Can't you hear the train coming!"

It was Dick Woodbridge who shouted the words. He had been rambling aimlessly along by the railway, when he suddenly caught sight of Nora's peril.

He did not wait to see the effect of his words. With rapid strides he dashed on to the metals, and, seizing Joey's bridle, he dragged both pony and rider into safety. A moment or two later the train thundered by.

Nora by this time had dismounted, and was in a flood of hysterical tears.

"Oh, Dick—Dick," she sobbed out the words, "whatever 'should' I have done but for you?"

"That's all right," said Dick awkwardly; "you've nothing to cry about now."

But, all the same, Nora went on crying helplessly. And Dick was thoroughly glad and relieved when presently they were joined by Eileen, Teddy, and Frank.

A few broken sentences from Nora explained what had happened, and Dick was quite abashed at the praise which he received.

Eileen, looking very white at the thought of her sister's narrow escape, could scarcely speak at first for tears.

"Dick, you are simply splendid," she faltered out; "we—we can never thank you enough for what you have done."

"I jolly well wish we could do something for you in return, old chap," here put in Teddy; and the friendliness of his tone went straight to Dick's heart.

It was Frank, however, who hit upon exactly the right words to say.

"We'll be chums after this, won't we?" he said, looking first at Dick and then at Teddy and his sisters, and his words met with general approval.

Thus came about a friendship between Dick and the Bannister family, a friendship which grew by leaps and bounds.

CHAPTER VIII.

Dick's Letter.

HAPPY days followed for the Bannister children and their friend Dick. There were trips on the sea, picnics on shore, and rambles in the woodlands and meadows. In nearly all their pleasures, Mr. Charlton had a share, and the youngsters little guessed how largely they were contributing to the enjoyment of his holiday.

Before he left Hazlenook, he had the pleasure of presenting the little authoress with a cheque for her story and sketches, with a promise that they should appear in due time in the magazine.

Eileen's pride and delight knew no bounds, and the cheque, which was promptly cashed, swelled the amount which was already in the mortgage-box in quite a handsome fashion.

It was on a certain sunny afternoon in September that Mr. Charlton very regretfully bade good-bye to his young friends, for friends they had become now in very truth.

"We seem to have known you for ever so long, Mr. Charlton," said Eileen, on the way to the railway station.

The Bannister boys and girls, and Dick also, had arranged to give him a good send-off.

"We shall miss you ever so much; you have been most awfully good to us, and we shan't forget it." And so said Nora, who was walking by Eileen's side.

The three boys were just at this moment a few steps behind.

"You have done as much for me as I have for you," replied Mr. Charlton, "and perhaps more."

"I don't see how that's possible," replied Eileen; "I only wish that there was something you 'specially' wanted that we could do for you."

Mr. Charlton's face looked serious—his thoughts had travelled far away.

"There is something," said he presently, "that I 'very' specially want, but it's nothing that any of you could do for me."

At this moment the boys chanced to overtake them, and the conversation became general.

Mr. Charlton was not sorry, for Eileen had unconsciously awakened sad memories. However, he soon cast all troubled thoughts aside, and entered into the children's chat with the usual ready interest he had shown in all they did.

Upon their arrival at the station, Dick looked so glum that Mr. Charlton seized an opportunity to have a few words alone with him.

"Cheer up, Dick, old man," said he kindly, knowing that the boy was feeling rather badly about the parting; "it isn't good-bye for ever, you know."

"I know that," mumbled Dick gruffly, for Mr. Charlton had promised that he would pay Hazlenook another visit at his earliest opportunity, "but you don't know how I shall miss you, sir. You've been such a real good friend to me."

"And I shall miss you too—all of you," said Mr. Charlton. "You won't forget, Dick, my boy," he added in an undertone, "the little chat we had together, you and I, about your Captain, and mine—remember He is always within call."

The boy flushed as he answered, "I won't forget, sir."

Here came a discussion about the luggage, and a few minutes later Mr. Charlton took his seat in the train. And after repeated good-byes and many hand-shakes, he was carried away towards the busy city, refreshed and strengthened for work again.

That self-same evening Dick sat down to write a long letter to his parents in India, a letter which was destined to help the Bannister family more than he knew. He began:

"DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,—

"I've got such a lot to tell you, that I scarcely know what is the best thing to say first.

"I'm ever so much happier here than I thought I should be. Uncle Nat is a lot kinder than he looks, and his bark is worse than his bite.

"And, besides this, I have made friends with the Bannister family, who live near by at The Gables. I like them ever so much. They are saving up money towards paying off a mortgage which is on their house. I only wish I could help them: do you think I can?

"If it isn't paid by Christmas, they will have to leave their pretty house, and they will feel it so.

"Next week school begins; and as Teddy and Frank Bannister go to the same school, Chelsford College, as I am going to, I expect we shall have some ripping times.

"The girls, Eileen and Nora, begin school on the same day. Their teacher is our head master's daughter. They are all just like my brothers and sisters, and often, when I am not at the Bannister's house, they are up here at The Laurels, and Uncle Nat seems to like it—"

Next followed details of the lad's life, the letter closing with a glowing account of Mr. Charlton, to whom Dick's boyish heart had gone out in affection.

DICK SAT DOWN TO WRITE A LONG LETTER TO HIS PARENTS.

After this, the lengthy epistle was folded and put into an envelope and posted.

Several happy weeks of school life passed away, and the half-term's holiday drew near. Frank had now given up his soldiering on the village green, much to the old shoemaker's regret, and, with Teddy and Dick, had joined the Boy Scouts. He still treasured, however, the three stripes given to him by Henderson, and the two were as good friends as ever, the old man having a chat with him when he passed that way.

The boys had made so many arrangements with their fellow Scouts for the half-term, that but for the fact that Eileen and Nora had been invited to London to spend the short holiday with a relative, Miss Silver by name, they would have felt considerably out of it.

As it was, they were highly delighted, for never before had they stayed in town. Indeed they felt quite adventurous when the time came for them to take their journey. At Hazlenook Station they were placed in the care of the guard. Miss Silver—or Cousin Margaret, as they called her—had promised to meet them at Liverpool Street. So Mrs. Weston had no anxiety whatever on their behalf.

CHAPTER IX.

Cissie Vane.

IN Miss Silver's Sunday-school class was a little girl of the name of Cissie Vane. She was a motherless bairn, who, sad to say, was generally in somebody's way. In the bygone times, which had so nearly faded away from Cissie's memory, she had been as happy as the day was long. She and her father had lived together in the country (her mother had died when Cissie was a tiny mite), and there Mr. Vane had painted his pictures, the sale of which just kept the little home going and the wolf from the door.

But all this was changed. Her father, unfortunately for Cissie, married again, soon after which he seemed to lose interest in his work. His health, too, failed him, and on Cissie's ninth birthday—she was at this time eleven years of age—she was left fatherless.

Her step-mother was a woman of quick, impatient temper, and was by no means always kind. Their home was now in a poor London street, where Mrs. Vane eked out her living by taking lodgers, Cissie proving very helpful in the house.

The little girl's first meeting with Miss Silver happened thus. Cissie, feeling very lonely one Sunday afternoon, made her way by chance to a Sunday-school in a street near by. At a word of invitation she took her place amongst a class of little girls, and the lesson she had interrupted was then continued.

"Now, children," said the lady at the close, "you may ask me any questions that you like, only we must talk softly so as not to disturb the others."

She smiled so sweetly as she spoke, that Cissie's little heart quite warmed within her, and it was she who, in spite of being a new-comer, put the first question.

"Please," she said, "what is your name?"

The voice was both gentle and refined, for the little girl had not caught the accent of the children of the neighbourhood.

The lady, who had expected some question about the Bible story, was a little surprised, but she answered very kindly all the same.

"My name is Margaret Silver," she said; "and what is yours, may I ask?"

"Mine," was the reply, "is Cissie Vane—I like your name best; I shall call you my 'Pretty Lady,' and come to your class again, if you'll let me."

The child meant no impertinence it was easy to see. She had simply fallen in love with her teacher. It was little wonder, for Margaret Silver was as sweet as she was beautiful. She in her turn was attracted to Cissie, the bright little face, framed with curly brown hair, being very winsome.

Cissie kept her promise with regard to coming again, and the friendship between teacher and pupil grew very rapidly.

About a couple of months after Cissie's first appearance at the Sunday-school a very exciting thing happened in her home. The child awoke one night to find the room—a small attic at the top of the house—in which she slept half full of smoke. Frightened, she made her way into the passage, and there she realized an alarming fact—the house was on fire!

As it chanced a little girl, Meggy Smith by name, of about four years of age, was sleeping in the room next to Cissie's attic. She had been left in Mrs. Vane's charge a few weeks previously, and Cissie was devoted to her.

Forgetful of her own danger, she hastened to Meggy's rescue. Quickly awakening her, she carried the little one, heavy though she was, towards the staircase. But here the smoke, which was now almost suffocating, barred their way of escape. The poor children were indeed in a sorry plight!

THE POOR CHILDREN WERE INDEED IN A SORRY PLIGHT.

By this time the household was aroused, and efforts were being made to reach them. But so rapidly was the fire spreading that the efforts were in vain.

Poor little Meggy was now crying piteously, Cissie meanwhile doing her best to pacify her.

"Don't cry, Meggy dear," said she as bravely as she could speak, although she was feeling terribly frightened herself. "We'll stand at the landing window, and shout for somebody to come and save us."

A few minutes later the two childish forms were seen there from below—all the other inmates of the house had reached safety—and Cissie, having flung the window open, cried loudly for help.

Fortunately it was not long in coming; the alarm had already been given, and the fire-engine and escape were even then on their way.

In a comparatively little while, although it seemed like an age to Cissie and Meggy, the escape was placed at the window, and one by one they were taken in safety to the street below.

A happy little party was seated at breakfast at No. 3, Belford Road, S.W. It consisted of Miss Silver, looking bright and smiling at the head of the table, Mrs. Mortimer, an elderly relative who lived with her—Miss Silver had lost her parents some years previously—and Eileen and Nora.

It was Monday morning. The half-term holiday was nearly over, and the two girls, who, to use their own words, had had a "perfectly lovely time," were supposed to be leaving that afternoon for home.

"Girls," said Miss Silver presently, looking up from a letter she was reading, "are you in a great hurry to go home, or would you like to stay on with me for another couple of days?"

"Oh," cried Eileen, looking as though such a prospect was too good to be true, "is there any chance of it, Cousin Margaret?"

"Yes," was the reply, "there is. I took upon myself to write to your governess—who is an old friend of mine—and also to Mrs. Weston, and both are willing for you to stay on till Wednesday."

"How simply splendiferous!" exclaimed Eileen in delight; and Nora echoed her words.

"Now is there anything you would particularly like to do?" said Miss Silver presently, when the children had expressed their thanks; "we must make the most of the time, you know."

Eileen and Nora thought awhile, and soon came to the conclusion that they would like to go to the Zoo.

"So it shall be," said Miss Silver. "Perhaps Mrs. Mortimer would like to go with us."

But the older lady smiled and shook her head; she preferred a quiet day at home.

"Some time this afternoon," went on Miss Silver, "I want to go and see one of my little Sunday-school pupils who is ill. I think we could manage it on our way home. You two girls can come in with me, if you like, and have a chat with her too."

"We'd like it very much," replied Eileen. "What is her name, and what is the matter with her?"

"Her name is Cissie Vane. She is suffering really from severe shock upon a delicate and ill-fed little frame. And as there was nowhere else for her to go, she was taken to the hospital. She and another child, who seems none the worse for her experience, nearly lost their lives in a fire a few nights ago."

And Miss Silver then told the story as she had heard it from Cissie's lips.

Both Eileen and Nora were intensely interested, and looked forward to the day's programme with the keenest delight.

"There is one person I would like to see while we are here," said Eileen a little later, "and that is Mr. Charlton. He lives in London, and we know his address."

Miss Silver had already heard much about the editor of "Sunny Hours" and of his acceptance of Eileen's story and drawings.

"Well, there's no reason why you shouldn't see him," she replied; "that is, if he has the time to spare. Would you like to send him a few lines asking him to come to-morrow evening if he is disengaged?"

Eileen was very pleased to do so, and the invitation was duly sent, and accepted by return of post.

The time spent at the Zoo was perfect from beginning to end, and Miss Silver, in seeing the children's pleasure, enjoyed it as much as they.

On their way home, as arranged, she and the two girls called at the hospital, where little Cissie Vane was a patient, and there they found the child in a great state of distress. The reason was soon given by Cissie herself, between pitiful sobs which shook her very frame.

On that day her step-mother had been to see her, and had told the little girl that very shortly she was going to Canada, and that Cissie would have to find a new home. But where? Ah! That was the question.

CHAPTER X.

The Lost Niece.

"I'VE nowhere to go, and nobody wants me—oh, what shall I do? What 'shall' I do?" Little Cissie sobbed out the words.

And Eileen and Nora, who were both as tenderhearted as could be, were almost ready to cry for very sympathy.

Miss Silver stooped down and gently kissed the pathetic little face. "Don't cry, dearie," said she soothingly, "and you mustn't say that nobody wants you, for 'I' do. As for there being nowhere for you to go, we'll soon settle that."

Cissie's eyes brightened a little. Somehow, with Miss Silver by her side, she felt a sense of protection.

"What would you say, Cissie," went on the lady, after a few moments' thought, "to coming home with me, if sister allows it?"

"Oh, Miss Silver," Cissie looked over-joyed, "do you really, 'really' mean it?"

"Of course I do; I'll go and speak to Sister Louise" (here naming a personal friend of her own in the hospital) "at once about it. And in the meantime, you and my young cousins can be making each others' acquaintance."

True to her promise, Miss Silver went in search of Sister Louise.

And in a very few minutes, Eileen, Nora, and Cissie were chatting away in the friendliest of fashions.

After a time Miss Silver returned to Cissie's bedside, every arrangement for the child's welfare having been satisfactorily made.

"Cissie," said she, "how soon do you think you can get into some clothes? The matron and sister both think you are well enough to return home with me now. What do you say to that?"

Cissie looked absolutely delighted, and a scarlet flush of excitement came into her cheeks.

"How—perfectly lovely!" she said. "I feel just so happy that I want to cry."

"Little goose!" laughed Miss Silver. But all the same her own eyes were misty with tears of sympathy.

Before half an hour had elapsed, Cissie, the good-byes to those who had befriended her in the hospital having been said, found herself seated in a taxi by Miss Silver's side, Eileen and Nora sitting opposite with beaming faces.

That evening a bed was made up for the little girl in Miss Silver's room, the lady supplying all her needs. And there, for the first time since the fire, she passed a night of calm, unbroken sleep, awaking in the morning, well on the road to health and strength.

By Miss Silver's orders she was to remain in bed for that day, with the promise that she should come downstairs on the next if she was very good.

A letter was sent to Mrs. Vane telling her of Cissie's whereabouts. The only reply to which was a few brief lines saying that it was well Cissie had found a friend, as she would be unable to do anything further for her. From that day forth nothing more was heard of the little girl's step-mother.

Punctually at six o'clock, the hour Mr. Charlton had appointed for his call, a knock was heard at the door. He received the kindliest of welcomes from Miss Silver and Mrs. Mortimer, who had both heard much in his favour. As for the two girls, they were delighted to see him.

There were so many things to hear and to say, that conversation flowed very easily.

It was Eileen who later on brought up the subject of the mortgage-box, Miss Silver having already heard about it.

"I put all the money you gave me for my story and drawings, Mr. Charlton," said she, "straight into the mortgage-box, but we've given up trying to earn anything more for it now, it seemed so little use."

"Come, you mustn't be discouraged like that," replied Mr. Charlton, with a smile. "Why don't you try your hand at another little story and some more drawings? Maybe I could use them one day."

"I've had no time since school began," said Eileen regretfully, "and besides, I don't feel as if I had got anything to write about. Oh, Cousin Margaret—" (here she turned to Miss Silver, a sudden bright thought striking her), "wouldn't Cissie make an interesting story? May I tell Mr. Charlton all about her?"

"Certainly you may, dear, if you like," said Miss Silver in her pretty gentle voice; "that is, if Mr. Charlton would care to hear."

"I should like it very much," was the answer; "Cissie is a favourite name of mine."

He listened with great interest to the story which followed. It was his ready sympathy which had made him such a favourite with the Bannister boys and girls.

HE LISTENED TO THE STORY.

"Poor little soul!" he said at the close. "It's hard luck for her! But surely she has some relative who would look after her."

Miss Silver shook her head. "No," said she, "I'm afraid not. Her father, for some reason or other, seemed to have cut himself adrift from all his relatives, and Cissie knows nothing about any of them."

"What's her surname?" asked Mr. Charlton. "You haven't told me yet. Perhaps, I could help you in the matter."

"Vane," replied Miss Silver; "it's rather an uncommon name, and—"

"Vane," was the quick interruption. "Cissie Vane—are you 'quite' sure?"

Mr. Charlton's voice trembled a little as he put the question, and Miss Silver looked at him in surprise.

"Yes," she answered, "quite sure; she was named after her mother."

"Then," said he, "that settles it!"

There was a note of such joy in his words that his hearers felt a sudden thrill of excitement.

What did he know about little Cissie Vane?

"Miss Silver," he went on, "this is nothing less than providential. If what I think and believe is true, this child is my niece—my only sister's little girl. For years I have been trying to find her whereabouts, but without success."

At this moment there flashed into Eileen's mind the words Mr. Charlton had spoken on the day he bade good-bye to them at Hazlenook, and she instinctively guessed that what he specially wanted had come to pass. And she was right.

"May I see her, please?" he next asked eagerly.

"Certainly you may," replied Miss Silver, delighted beyond measure at the turn of affairs.

As for Eileen and Nora, it seemed to them almost too good to be believed. Mrs. Mortimer's kindly heart, too, was rejoiced.

"I only hope," added the lady, "that for poor little Cissie's sake you may be right."

A few minutes later Mr. Charlton and Miss Silver were standing by Cissie's bedside, and in the easiest and friendliest of fashions the former, having first won the little girl's confidence, began to question her about her relatives.

Very soon an important fact was in his possession.

"I wonder," he said very gently, Miss Silver having warned him not to excite the child, "if you can tell me what your mother's name was before she married your father."

"My own mother, you mean?" asked Cissie.

"Yes," was the reply.

"It was Cissie Charlton; I saw it written in a book in her own handwriting. Daddy told me it was one that belonged to her."

This was quite enough—the proof was positive.

"Cissie," said Mr. Charlton, his voice not quite under his control, "you will like to know that I knew and loved your mother very dearly—in fact, little one, she was my own sister."

"Your own sister!" The pale little face on the pillow suddenly flushed a rosy red, which soon faded, leaving her whiter than before.

At first she could scarcely grasp all his words implied.

"Is it all—real—true?" she said falteringly, looking from his face into Miss Silver's kind eyes.

"Yes, dearie," (it was Miss Silver who answered the question), "it is all real, true."

"Then," said Cissie, turning towards Mr. Charlton again, "you—you are my own uncle!"

"Yes, I am," was the glad reply, "and I am going to take care of you from this day forth." And, stooping down, Mr. Charlton kissed his new-found niece.

Cissie's cup of joy was full to the brim. "Isn't it all wonderful?" she said presently, "and oh, isn't it kind of God to let it happen like this?"

To these words both Mr. Charlton and Miss Silver agreed. So rolled away the clouds from the life of little Cissie Vane, giving place to heaven's brightest sunshine.

CHAPTER XI.

Frank's Gift.

DICK WOODBRIDGE was spending the Saturday afternoon, which happened to be a very wet one, with the Bannister boys and girls in the large playroom at The Gables. Teddy and Frank were inclined to be irritable, and Eileen had all her work cut out to keep peace between them.

"I say, you two," said Dick presently, seeing that the boys were very near a quarrel, "do keep your hair on! I've got something to tell you if you'll only listen."

"What is it?" asked Eileen, feeling very grateful to Dick for his timely interruption.

"There's a big show coming off at the Shire Hall at Chelsford soon in aid of the County Hostel for Soldiers, and Uncle Nat is taking no end of interest in it. He says that everybody ought to give or do something."

"When is it to be?" asked Nora.

"Oh, in about a fortnight or so, and I've been puzzling my head what to give. For the life of me, I can't think of anything."

"You might give away those freckles on the tip of your nose without missing 'em," said Teddy, his temper feeling a bit better.

Dick grinned; he was quite used now to the chaff and fun of his young companions.

"I know what I can do," said Nora. "I'll send one of my Persian kittens for sale—the one I don't want to keep."

"Very generous of you," laughed Frank teasingly.

"And you can give Frisky, your fox terrier puppy," went on Nora. "I dare say he'd sell for something."

"Sell Frisky!" exclaimed Frank. "I think I see myself. Why I wouldn't part with Frisky for five pounds—no, not for ten!"

"You needn't worry yourself, old chap," here spoke Teddy; "you're not likely to be offered 'that' for a mongrel like him! I know what I'll give," he added, "and that is a couple of my rabbits. Between us we ought to raise something."

The chat had now drifted into quite a smooth channel, and the rest of the afternoon passed away without any further bickering.

It was about a week later, and Frank was in deep thought. He was alone in the garden, and a struggle was going on within his heart.

"I wonder," he said to himself, "if I'm a 'very' selfish pig! All the others have given something to the sale, and I've got nothing to give except Frisky, and I just simply can't spare the little chap."

At this moment Frisky, as though he knew he was in his master's thoughts, bounded to Frank's side. The boy stooped down and fondled his pet.

"You little know," said he, "what I've been thinking about. But there, I shan't think of it any more. There 'll be plenty of people to give without me."

But still Frank's mind was not easy. A text his mother had taught him when he was quite a little fellow kept coming into his mind. "Even Christ pleased not Himself."

"I hate to be selfish," was his unspoken thought; "only horrid people are selfish. I suppose I shall have to give him, after all."

Little as Frank realized it, the golden thread of his mother's influence was leading him into the path of self-sacrifice.

A few days later Frank, owing to a neglected cold, was on the sick list and under the doctor's care. And so it befell that it was Teddy who took Frisky (Frank specially wished it, though it was hard to say good-bye to his pet) to the Shire Hall at Chelsford for sale on behalf of the hostel.

"Five shillings for a fox terrier!" The auctioneer, Mr. Fleet by name, looked around the crowded room as he spoke. "Come now, aren't you going to offer me more than that? I want ten times that amount," he declared, "not a penny less!"

Frisky, the fox terrier in question, who was perched on a chair near the speaker, here gave a little yelp as though he too had something to say upon the subject.

"I reckon, sir, 'want' will have to be your master!" cried a voice from the audience.

"I think not," replied Mr. Fleet. "Suppose now I tell you the story of Frisky, this fox terrier. He is the gift of a little lad who prized him above all his possessions. The tale is true, for I heard it from one who knows him well."

Dick Woodbridge, as it happened, had told Mr. Fleet all about it.

"He was afraid of being selfish," went on Mr. Fleet, "so he gave of his best. It isn't every one of us who could say that, is it?

"There is just one thing more I would like you to know, and I'm sure you will be sorry to hear it—Frisky's little master is lying ill, and for his sake, as well as for the good cause, I ask you to be liberal."

Scarcely had Mr. Fleet finished speaking than fifty shillings "were" offered, the bids rising rapidly one after another, until finally the fox terrier puppy was knocked down to the squire of the neighbourhood—Sir Matthew Harley—for the sum of five pounds.

He too had given of his best—his son for his country, and a fellow feeling had made him wondrous kind.

It was just as the bargain was completed that Dick Woodbridge, his face looking very anxious, entered the room. He had come post haste from The Gables in order to buy Frisky and restore him to his master, if the price was not beyond his powers. None of the Bannister children, to their disappointment, were there on that day, Frank's illness causing a certain amount of anxiety in the household.

Dick was somewhat taken aback to find that Frisky had already been sold, and for such a sum, but still he was not hopeless of attaining his object. Seeking out his Uncle Nat, he made a bold request.

"Please, Uncle Nat," said he, "I want you to lend me five pounds."

"Five pounds!" repeated Mr. Grimwood in surprise. "Whatever for, my lad?"

Then Dick told him.

"I believe," finished the boy, "that if I could take Frisky back to Frank, it would do him a power of good. He's quite ill to-day, and the doctor is half afraid of pneumonia."

Mr. Grimwood looked thoughtful.

"I never lend," said he, "on principle. Besides, how do you know that Sir Matthew will part with the dog?"

"I don't know," replied Dick, "but I believe he would, for he looks kind. Uncle Nat," he went on earnestly, "if you won't 'lend' me the money, may I have five pounds instead of the bicycle you promised me on my next birthday?"

Mr. Grimwood was surprised, and inwardly very pleased. He had not expected such unselfishness from Dick, although, as he well knew, the lad had much improved in character of late.

"Well," he said, after a little consideration, "we'll see what Sir Matthew has to say about it."

But the Squire, when the request was made, and he had heard the whole story, shook his head.

"No," he said, "I want that fox terrier for a special purpose."

Dick was now feeling almost in despair. "Oh, 'please,' Sir Matthew," cried he, "'do' let me buy him back."

"Suppose—" (there was a kindly twinkle in Sir Matthew's eyes as he spoke) "I want it for the same purpose as 'you' do."

"Oh, Sir Matthew!" Dick almost gasped in his relief. "Do you really mean it?"

"Of course I do; I never say what I don't mean. Take the dog, and tell its master from me I hope he'll soon be better."

Dick was too delighted to express his thanks properly, but he did his best; Mr. Grimwood also expressing his appreciation of the Squire's kindness.

Very soon after this Dick was hurrying off to The Gables with Frisky in his arms.

FRANK'S DELIGHT AT SEEING HIS PET AGAIN
WAS ALMOST TEARFUL.

Frank's delight at seeing his pet again was almost tearful, for the boy was feeling both weak and ill. When he heard all there was to tell, he gripped Dick's hand with all the strength he possessed.

"Dick, old chap," said he, "you're a brick—that's what you are; and so is Sir Matthew!"

Strange to say, the change for the better in Frank seemed to date from that time. At least, so said Mrs. Weston and the children.

And the doctor, when he called next day and saw the improvement in his young patient, declared with a laugh that Frisky had done him more good than all the medicine in the world.

CHAPTER XII.

Home Again.

CHRISTMAS was drawing near, and the Bannister boys and girls were bright with anticipation. It was little wonder, for their father was due to arrive home from America shortly before the festive season. The actual date was not fixed.

Little Cissie Vane, too, was looking forward to Christmas, for she was to spend it with Miss Silver, her Uncle Derrick—with whom she had now made a home—also being an invited guest. The child was a boarder at the school which Eileen and Nora attended, and was as happy as the day was long.

Eileen's story and drawings had by this time appeared in "Sunny Hours," filling the little authoress with pride and delight and high ambitions for the future.

"I wish Christmas would hurry and come," said Eileen one morning; "I do want to see daddy most awfully!"

So echoed the rest!

At last came the breaking-up day at the school, and the youngsters, to celebrate the beginning of the holidays, decided in the afternoon to have a winter picnic. This meant tea and hot cakes on the frozen pond which adjoined the garden. The weather was unusually severe for the season, and the ice, so the children declared, was as firm as a rock. Mrs. Weston was quite agreeable to the plan, her only condition being that they should all wrap up well.

By tea-time a great round moon was riding in the heavens, making the world well-nigh as light as day. Dick, who of course was one of the party, entered into the spirit of everything, and was the gayest of the gay—at least, he was so until a very unfortunate incident took place.

In a venturesome mood, he presently made his way to a certain part of the ice that was overhung by trees and which the more cautious Teddy considered doubtful.

He had been there but a few minutes, when there came an ominous sound of cracking. With all speed Dick was about to leave the spot and join the others, when the ice suddenly bent beneath his weight, and then gave way altogether. A cry of fright escaped his lips, another instant and he had sunk beneath the icy water.

The Bannister children, realizing what had happened, were terror-stricken. Just as they were hurrying towards the gaping hole in the ice, a loud and well-remembered voice fell on their ears.

"Keep back—I'm coming!"

It was their father who spoke; none of them, as it happened, had chanced to hear his footsteps.

Scarcely a word of welcome did he receive. Dick's life was in danger; even daddy's home-coming was secondary to this!

The boy rose to the surface with a piteous cry for help.

"All right, don't be afraid!" shouted Mr. Bannister. "I'll save you!"

He next managed to place himself full length on the cracking ice, as near the edge of the hole as possible, and presently—it seemed like an eternity to the terrified watchers—he caught hold of Dick's outstretched arm, and by dint of great care drew him towards the firmer ice.

The relief of the children when the danger was past was so great that they were nearly ready to cry for joy.

Poor Dick, however, by this time was only half conscious, and Mr. Bannister, gathering him up into his strong arms, prepared to carry him to the house, bidding the others to follow.

Mrs. Weston, upon hearing what had happened, wasted no time in talk. It was she who had told Mr. Bannister on his arrival home where to find the young people; and well was it for Dick that she had done so.

With all speed Dick's needs received attention. And a messenger was dispatched to Mr. Grimwood explaining matters, telling him at the same time that although there was no need for anxiety on his nephew's behalf, he would not be able to return home that evening.

When Mr. Bannister had changed into dry clothing, and Dick was cosily tucked up in bed, the warmth of his welcome home more than made up for his chilly bath.

The delight of the children at once again having their father in their midst was unbounded, and Mr. Bannister—who had kept the exact time of his arrival a secret, intending it as a Christmas surprise—had all his work cut out to answer the questions that were showered upon him.

"I can never thank you enough, sir," said Dick to Mr. Bannister next morning, "for saving my life yesterday as you did. It was just 'splendid' of you!"

The lad, who was feeling considerably better, though not quite himself, had insisted upon joining the family at breakfast.

Mr. Bannister looked into Dick's pale face with a very kindly expression in his eyes.

"Well," said he, "one good turn deserves another, and, little as you know it, I and these youngsters here have reason to be very grateful to you. Do you remember,—" he went on, "writing a certain letter to your father and mother about the mortgage-box and how my boys and girls were trying to help pay off the debt?"

"Yes," replied Dick, looking very puzzled, "I remember quite well."

Then Mr. Bannister turned to his children, who were eagerly listening, and, like Dick, greatly puzzled.

"Little did you dream, kiddies," said he, and there was a good deal of feeling in his tone, "that indirectly your mortgage-box would be the means of the money being paid, but so it is!"

"Paid—oh, father!" cried Eileen, her eyes bright with joy and wonder. "Then we shan't have to leave our dear old home after all?"

"Dad, what 'do' you mean?" asked Teddy; and so questioned Nora and Frank.

Mrs. Weston's kind, motherly face was beaming; she was already in the secret.

Mr. Bannister hereupon explained how it was that Dick's letter had brought it all about. His story in brief was this.

A certain Mr. Sutton, a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Woodbridge, and, strange to say, a friend of the Bannister family also, was present when the letter was received.

As he was interested in the lad, it was passed on for him to read; the closely-written epistle, as it proved, giving him much food for thought.

Having reason to be grateful to Mr. Bannister's father for help in times past, he made up his mind to do something in the matter, and in the end, through his kindness—for Mr. Sutton was now a very wealthy man—every penny of the mortgage was paid.

The children could hardly control their excitement at the turn of affairs.

"Hip, hip, hooray!" shouted Teddy. "Three cheers for Mr. Sutton and for good old Dick!"

These were given. And Dick, crimson-faced, felt his cup of happiness full to the brim.

When order was again restored, Mr. Bannister had something more to say.

"There's one thing we mustn't forget, boys and girls," said he (his voice had now a serious ring in it), "you know whose birthday it is we are about to keep. We must remember to give Him thanks, who is the Author and Giver of all good things."

"We won't forget, daddy dear," replied Eileen thoughtfully.

And, to do them justice, none of them did forget.

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear. A covering of snow lay over the frost-bound earth, wrapping it in a soft, fleecy garment, which glittered beneath the wintry sun. Well indeed might the world seem a happy place to the Bannister boys and girls. Their father had come home, the mortgage was paid, and the Christmas bells were ringing out their message of peace and goodwill.

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Table of Contents

- A GOLDEN THREAD

- CHAPTER I.

- CHAPTER II.

- CHAPTER III.

- CHAPTER IV.

- CHAPTER V.

- CHAPTER VI.

- CHAPTER VII.

- CHAPTER VIII.

- CHAPTER IX.

- CHAPTER X.

- CHAPTER XI.

- CHAPTER XII.

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE