Great Uncle Hoot-Toot. Molesworth Mrs.

go into it all, and you have nothing to do but leave things to me. Now let us talk of pleasanter matters. What a nice, pretty little house you've got! And what nice, pretty little daughters! Good girls, too, or I'm uncommonly mistaken. They're comforts to you, Alice, my dear, eh?"

      "The greatest possible comforts," answered the mother, warmly. "And so is little Vic. You haven't seen her yet."

      "Little Vic? Oh, to be sure – my namesake." For Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot's real name, you must know, was Mr. Victor Byrne. "To be sure; must see her to-morrow; Vic, to be sure."

      "And Geoffrey," Mrs. Tudor went on less assuredly. "Geoff is doing very well at school. You will have a good report of him from his masters. He is a steady worker, and – "

      "But how about the home report of him, eh?" said Mr. Byrne, drily. "There's two sides to most things, and I've rather a weakness for seeing both. Never mind about that just now. I never take up impressions hastily. Don't be afraid. I'll see Master Geoff for myself. Let's talk of other things. What do these young ladies busy themselves about? Are they good housekeepers, eh?"

      Mrs. Tudor smiled.

      "Can you make a pudding and a shirt, Elsa and Frances?" she asked. "Tell your uncle your capabilities."

      "I could manage the pudding," said Elsa. "I think the days for home-made shirts are over."

      "Hoot-toot, toot-toot!" said Mr. Byrne; "new-fangled notions, eh?"

      "No, indeed, Great-Uncle Hoot – " began Frances, eagerly. Then blushing furiously, she stopped short.

      The old gentleman burst out laughing.

      "Never mind, my dear; I'm used to it. It's what they always called me – all my nephews and nieces."

      "Have you a great many nephews and nieces besides us?" asked Elsa.

      Mr. Byrne laughed again.

      "That depends upon myself," he said. "I make them, you see. I have had any quantity in my day, but they're scattered far and wide. And – there are a great many blanks, Alice, my dear, since I was last at home," he added, turning to Mrs. Tudor. "I don't know that any of them was ever quite such a pet of mine as this little mother of yours, my dears."

      "Oh!" said Elsa, looking rather disappointed; "you are not our real uncle, then? I always thought you were."

      "Well, think so still," said Mr. Byrne. "At any rate, you must treat me so, and then I shall be quite content. But I must be going. I shall see you to-morrow after I've had it out with that donkey Norris. What a stupid idiot he is, to be sure!" and for a moment Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot looked quite fierce. "And then I must see little Vic. What time shall I come to-morrow, Alice?"

      "Whenever you like, uncle," she said. "Will you not come and stay here altogether?"

      "No, thank you, my dear. I've got my own ways, you see. I'm a fussy old fellow. And I've got my servant – my blackamoor. He'd frighten all the neighbours. And you'd fuss yourself, thinking I wasn't comfortable. I'll come up to-morrow afternoon and stay on to dinner, if you like. And just leave the boy to me a bit. Good night, all of you; good night."

      And in another moment the little old gentleman was gone.

      The two girls and their mother sat staring at each other when he had disappeared.

      "Isn't it like a dream? Can you believe he has really come, mamma?" said Elsa.

      "Hardly," replied her mother. "But I am very thankful. If only Geoff will not vex him."

      Elsa and Frances said nothing. They had their own thoughts about their brother, but they felt it best not to express them.

      CHAPTER IV.

      FOOLISH GEOFF

      "Is he like what you expected, Elsa?" asked Frances, when they were in their own room.

      "Who? Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot? I'm sure I don't know. I don't think I ever thought about what he'd be like."

      "Oh, I had an idea," said Frances. "Quite different, of course, from what he really is. I had fancied he'd be tall and stooping, and with a big nose and very queer eyes. I think I must have mixed him up with the old godfather in the 'Nutcracker of Nuremberg,' without knowing it."

      "Well, he's not so bad as that, anyway," said Elsa. "He looks rather shrivelled and dried up; but he's so very neat and refined-looking. Did you notice what small brown hands he has, and such very bright eyes? Isn't it funny that he's only an adopted uncle, after all?"

      "I think mamma had really forgotten he wasn't our real uncle," said Frances. "Elsa, I am very glad he has come. I think poor mamma has been far more unhappy than she let us know. She does look so ill."

      "It's half of it Geoff," said Elsa, indignantly. "And now he must needs spoil Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot's arrival by his tempers. Perhaps it's just as well, however. 'By the pricking of my thumbs,' I fancy Geoff has met his master."

      "Elsa, you frighten me a little," said Frances. "You don't think he'll be very severe with poor Geoff?"

      "I don't think he'll be more severe than is for Geoff's good," replied Elsa. "I must confess, though, I shouldn't like to face Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot if I felt I had been behaving badly. How his eyes can gleam!"

      "And how he seemed to flash in upon us all of a sudden, and to disappear almost as quickly! I'm afraid there's something a little bit uncanny about him," said Frances, who was very imaginative. "But if he helps to put all the money troubles right, he will certainly be like a good fairy to us."

      "Yes; and if he takes Geoff in hand," added Elsa. "But, Frances, we must go to bed. I want to make everything very nice to-morrow; I'm going to think about what to have for dinner while I go to sleep."

      For Elsa was housekeeper – a very zealous and rather anxious-minded young housekeeper. Her dreams were often haunted by visions of bakers' books and fishmongers' bills; to-night curry and pilau chased each other through her brain, and Frances was aroused from her first sweet slumbers to be asked if she would remember to look first thing to-morrow morning if there was a bottle of chutney in the store-closet.

      At breakfast Geoff came in, looking glum and slightly defiant. But he said nothing except "Good morning." He started, however, a little, when he saw his mother.

      "Mamma," he said, "are you not well? You look so very pale."

      The girls glanced up at this. It was true. They had not observed it in the excitement of discussing the new arrival, and the satisfaction of knowing it had brought relief to Mrs. Tudor's most pressing anxieties.

      "Yes, mamma dear. It is true. You do look very pale. Now, you must not do anything to tire yourself all day. We will manage everything, so that Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot shall see we are not silly useless girls," said Elsa.