Nothing could have exceeded the air of importance with which Albert was striding along the streets of Windsor, and notwithstanding the shortness of his legs, his valet de chambre, in the shape of a newly acquired French nurse, had difficulty in keeping up with him. The fact was, Albert was intrusted with a most important piece of information—the bearer of a message that had cleared his own mental horizon from so much as the vestige of a cloud, and which he felt sure would bring equal joy to the others for whom it was intended. The destination toward which he steered, without deviation to right or left, and with great regard for economy of time and space at corners and crossings, was the Little Castle, and he marched up the path from terrace to terrace, and rang the bell with all the complacency of a drum-major.

It was expected, of course, that faithful old Margaret, who was master in chief of affairs in the Little Castle, would, as usual, in the absence of the family, answer the bell, and the message intended for her was half way over Albert’s lips before he took in the fact that the individual who had opened the door bore about as close resemblance to Margaret as the tower of the Little Castle to its door-mat.

“Why—why, who are you?” asked Albert as soon as he could check the impassioned utterance of his message, and instantly demanded in the next breath, “and—and where is Margaret?”

“Here I am, dear,” said Margaret, coming toward him as rapidly as an extra touch of rheumatism would permit, “and I suppose you wonder who this is who has let you in?”

“Nes,” said Albert, whose anxiety as to who this intruder might be was somewhat allayed by Margaret’s appearance on the scene.

“Well, this is Mr. Everett Selden, Harold’s uncle, who has come down from London to make us a little visit,” Margaret explained.

“Oh, dat’s all right den!” favoring Mr. Selden with a benignant smile; “and—and now, Margaret. I came round to tell you dat dey are coming home on Saturday. We’ve had a letter from Dorothy dis morning, and dey sent me down to tell you.” (Margaret fortunately was considerate enough not to take the wind out of the little fellow’s sails by informing him that they had had letters of their own that morning.) “And, Margaret, dey will get here in time for luncheon, and I would have a very good luncheon, Margaret, and everything all b’ight and shiny.”

“Just as you say, Master Albert,” making a little curtsey to this self-appointed master, and with difficulty restricting her emotions to a smile.

Meanwhile, Mr. Selden stood on one side immensely entertained, for he had previously had no idea that executive ability ever made a showing at quite such an early age.

“And now,” said Albert, free to turn his attention to less important matters, “did you open the door for me because you saw a little boy coming up the terrace?”

“Yes, that was the way of it,” Mr. Selden replied.

“But you did not know what little boy I was?”

“Oh, yes, I did; Marie-Celeste told me about you one day when I had a good talk with her in St. George’s.”

“Elaine,” said Albert, turning abruptly to the French nurse, “I would like to talk to Harold’s uncle, and I would like to stay to luncheon—I often stay to luncheon, don’t I, Margaret?” Margaret’s answer was that he often did, and Mr. Selden’s assurance that nothing would give him greater pleasure at once settled the matter, and Elaine was compelled to return without her charge, but entrusted with the message to Albert’s mamma that Mr. Selden would himself bring him home early in the afternoon.

“I remember that Marie-Celeste told me,” said Mr. Selden, placing a comfortable chair for Albert opposite his own, near the open window, “that you were very fond of a good talk now and then; and I’m very glad of that, because there isn’t anything else that I could do to amuse you.”

“Why isn’t there?” said Albert, noting Mr. Selden’s dressing-gown, and impressed with his semi-invalid air; “aren’t you strong enough to do anything but talk?”

“No, I’m not so badly off as that yet, Albert; but you see I’ve lived alone so long; that I haven’t much of an idea how to amuse little boys.”

“Why did you tome down here when ev’rybody was away?” for Albert felt that the case needed to be still further investigated; “were you inwited?”

“Oh, yes, indeed I was invited! Harold’s brother Ted invited me—urged me, I may say, to come whenever I chose, and to stay as long as I liked.”

“How long do you sink you will like to stay?”

“I think I would like to stay always.”

“Always till you die?”

“Yes, I think I should—that is, if you don’t mind, Albert;” for Albert’s sense of proprietorship in the Little Castle was very evident.

“Oh, no, I’ll not mind—perhaps we’ll grow to be friends, and often have long talks. Marie-Celeste said you had long talks on the steamer—that was how she came to know you so well.”
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