"You don't mean that Margaret wrote--but she couldn't; besides, it isn't her writing."

"No, Margaret didn't write it. For that part I think I detect the earmarks of young McGinnis. At all events, it came from him."

"Bobby?"

"Yes."

"But who----" Mrs. Kendall stopped abruptly. A dawning comprehension came into her eyes. "You mean--Harry, she _was_ at the bottom of it! I remember now. It was only a week or two ago that she used those same words to me. She insisted that you would beat me and--and bang me 'round.

Oh, Margaret, Margaret, my poor little girl!"

The doctor smiled; then he shook his head gravely.

"Poor child! She hasn't seen much of conjugal felicity; has she?" he murmured; then, softly: "It is left for us, sweetheart, to teach her--that."

The color deepened in Mrs. Kendall's cheeks. Her eyes softened, then danced merrily.

"But you haven't signed--this, sir, yet!" she challenged laughingly, as she held out the paper.

He caught both paper and hands in a warm clasp.

"But I will," he declared. "Wait and see!"

Not twenty hours later Bobby McGinnis halted at the great gate of the driveway at Five Oaks and gave a peculiar whistle. Almost instantly Margaret flew across the lawn to meet him.

"Oh, it's jest a little matter of business," greeted Bobby, with careless ease. "I've got that 'ere doc.u.ment here all signed. I reckoned the doctor wouldn't lose no time makin' sure ter do his part."

"Bobby, not the contract--so soon!" exulted Margaret.

"Sure! Why not? I told him ter please sign to once an' return. An' he did, 'course. I reckoned he meant business in this little matter, an' he reckoned I did, too. There wa'n't nothin' for him ter do but sign, 'course."

Margaret drew her brows together in a thoughtful frown.

"But he might have--refused," she suggested.

Bobby gave her a scornful glance.

"Refused--an' lost the chance of marryin' at all? Not much!" he a.s.serted with emphasis.

"Well, anyhow, I'm glad he didn't," sighed Margaret, as she clutched the precious paper close to her heart. "I should 'a' hated to have refused outright to let him marry her when mother--Bobby, mother actually seems to _want_ to have him!"

CHAPTER VI

Margaret had been at home four weeks when the invitation for Patty, Arabella, Clarabella, and three of the Whalens to visit her, finally left her mother's hands. There had not been a day of all those four weeks that Margaret had not talked of the coming visit. At first, to be sure, she had not called it a visit; she had referred to it as the time when "Patty and the Whalens come here to live." Gradually, however, her mother had persuaded her to let them "try it and see how they liked it"; and to this compromise Margaret finally gave a somewhat reluctant consent.

Mrs. Kendall herself was distinctly uneasy over the whole affair; and on one pretext and another had put off sending for the proposed guests until Margaret's importunities left her no choice in the matter. Not but that she was grateful to the two families that had been so good to Margaret in her hour of need, but she would have preferred to show that grat.i.tude in some way not quite so intimate as taking them into her house and home for an indefinite period. Margaret, however, was still intent on "divvying up," and Mrs. Kendall could not look into her daughter's clear blue eyes, and explain why Patty, Arabella, Clarabella, and the Whalens might not be the most desirable guests in the world.

It had been Margaret's intention to invite all of the Whalen family. She had hesitated a little, it is true, over Mike Whalen, the father.

"You see he drinks, and when he ain't asleep he's cross, mostly," she explained to her mother; "but we can't leave just him behind, so we'll have to ask him, 'course. Besides, if he's goin' to live here, why, he might as well come right now at the first."

"No, certainly we couldn't leave Mr. Whalen behind alone," Mrs. Kendall had returned with dry lips. "So suppose we don't take any of the Whalens this time--just devote ourselves to Patty and the twins."

To this, however, Margaret refused to give her consent. What, not take any of the Whalens--the Whalens who had been so good as to give them one whole corner of their kitchen, rent free? Certainly not! She agreed, however, after considerable discussion, to take only Tom, Mary, and Peter of the Whalen family, leaving the rest of the children and Mrs.

Whalen to keep old Mike Whalen company.

"For, after all," as she said to her mother, "if Tom and Mary and Peter like it here, the rest will. They always like what Tom does--he makes 'em."

Mrs. Kendall never thought of that speech afterward without a shudder.

She even dreamed once of this all-powerful Tom--he stood over her with clinched fists and flashing eyes, demanding that she "divvy up" to the last cent. Clearly as she understood that this was only a dream, yet the vision haunted her; and it was not without some apprehension that she went with Margaret to the station to meet her guests, on the day appointed.

A letter from Margaret had gone to Patty, and one from Mrs. Kendall to Miss Murdock, the city missionary who had been so good to Margaret.

Houghtonsville was on a main line to New York, and but a few hours' ride from the city. Mrs. Kendall had given full instructions as to trains, and had sent the money for the six tickets. She had also asked Miss Murdock to place the children in care of the conductor, saying that she would meet them herself at the Houghtonsville station.

Promptly in return had come Miss Murdock's letter telling of the children's delighted acceptance of the invitation; and almost immediately had followed Patty's elaborately flourished scrawl:

"Much obliged for de invite an wes Acomin. Tanks.

"Clarabella, Arabella, an "Patty at yer service."

Mrs. Kendall thought of this letter and of Tom as she stood waiting for the long train from New York to come to a standstill; then she looked down at the sweet-faced daintily-gowned little maid at her side, and shuddered--it is one thing to carry beef-tea and wheel-chairs to our unfortunate fellow men, and quite another to invite those same fellow men to a seat at our own table or by our own fireside.

Margaret and her mother had not long to wait. Tom Whalen, in spite of the conductor's restraining hand, was on the platform before the wheels had ceased to turn. Behind him tumbled Peter, Mary, and Clarabella, while Patty, carefully guiding Arabella's twisted feet, brought up the rear. There was an instant's pause; then Tom spied Margaret, and with a triumphant "Come on--here she is!" to those behind, he dashed down the platform.

"My, but ain't you slick!" he cried admiringly, stopping short before Margaret, who had unconsciously shrunk close to her mother's side. "Hi, thar, Patty," he called, hailing the gleeful children behind him, "what would the Alley say if they could see her now?"

There was a moment's pause. Eagerly as the children had followed Tom's lead, they stood abashed now before the tall, beautiful woman and the pretty little girl they had once known as "Mag of the Alley." Almost instantly Margaret saw and understood; and with all the strength of her hospitable little soul she strove to put her guests at their ease. With a glad little cry she gave one after another a bear-like hug; then she stood back with a flourish and prepared for the introductions.

Unconsciously her words and manner aped those of her mother in sundry other introductions that had figured in her own experience during the last four weeks; and before Mrs. Kendall knew what was happening she found herself being ceremoniously presented to Tom Whalen, late of the Alley, New York.

"Tom, this is my dear mother that I lost long ago," said Margaret.

"Mother, dear, can't you shake hands with Tom?"

Tom advanced. His face was a fiery red, and the freckles shone luridly through the glow.

"Proud ter know ye, ma'am," he stammered, clutching frantically at the daintily-gloved, outstretched hand.

Margaret sighed with relief. Tom did know how to behave, after all. She had feared he would not.

"And this is Mary Whalen, and Peter," she went on, as Mrs. Kendall clasped in turn two limp hands belonging to a white-faced girl and a frightened boy. "And here's Patty and the twins, Clarabella and Arabella; and now you know 'em all," finished Margaret, beaming joyously upon her mother who was leaning with tender eyes over the little lame Arabella.

"My dear, how thin your poor little cheeks are," Mrs. Kendall was saying.

"Yes, she is kind o' peaked," volunteered Patty. "Miss Murdock says as how her food don't 'similate. Ye see she ain't over strong, anyhow, on account o' dem," pointing to the little twisted feet and legs. "Mebbe Maggie told ye, ma'am, how Arabella wa'n't finished up right, an' how her legs didn't go straight like ours," added Patty, giving her usual explanation of her sister's misfortune.

"Yes," choked Mrs. Kendall, hurriedly. "She told me that the little girl was lame. Now, my dears, we--we'll go home." Mrs. Kendall hesitated and looked about her. "You--you haven't any bags or--or anything?" she asked them.