could talk of nothing else.

"They were so kind to me, uncle. Mrs. Maxwell made a hot currant cake on
purpose for me, and the cat had a red ribbon for company, and we sat by
the fire and talked when Maxwell was out, and she told me such lovely
stories, and I saw a beautiful picture of the probable son in the best
parlor, and Mrs. Maxwell took it down and let me have a good look at it.
I am going to save up my money and buy one just like it for my nursery,
and do you know, uncle--"

She stopped short, but not for want of breath. Putting her curly head on
one side, she surveyed her uncle for a minute meditatively, then asked,
a little doubtfully:

"Can you keep a secret, Uncle Edward? Because I would like to tell you,
only, you see, Mrs. Maxwell doesn't talk about it, and I told her I
wouldn't--at least, not to the servants, you know."

"I think you can trust me," Sir Edward said gravely.

"This is it, then, and I think it's so wonderful. They have got a real
live probable son."

Sir Edward raised his eyebrows. His little niece continued:

"Yes, they really have. It was when I was talking about the picture Mrs.
Maxwell took the corner of her apron and wiped her eyes, and said she
had a dear son who had run away from home, and she hadn't seen him for
nine years. Just fancy! Where was I nine years ago?"