"I think it is our duty, John."  
"Stuff and nonsense. How can it be our duty to turn our house into a bear-garden for the sake of a lot of young savages? Let them spend their holidays at school."
 
I was reading, as I generally was in those days, but the word "savages" made me look up. It was fun reading about such people, but I was not at all sure that I should care to see even one alive, and here was father talking about a lot of them.
 
Mother laughed merrily. Somehow, she generally did laugh when other people would have cried; and I know now that it was mother's merry laugh that made the sunshine of our home.
 
"Why, John, how can you make savages into bears? They would not even hug you if you looked as fierce as you do now."
 
Then glancing towards my little sofa, mother's face became sweetly grave as she added in a low voice, "Besides, dear, we should like people to be good to Edric if we were not here; and, after all, they may do him good. You know the London doctor said he would have more chance of getting strong if he had plenty of play with brothers and sisters, instead of always having a book in his hand."
 
The colour came to my face, and I turned hot and cold all over, while I listened for father's answer. It was about six months since they had taken me to London to see a famous physician, and I had never heard them mention what he had said about me. I was the only child, and, owing to a fall downstairs when I was quite a tiny trot, there was a slight curvature in my spine. I did not know what was the matter then, but I knew that I was not like other children.
 
I dreaded the noise which my few friends made in the room when they came to see me. I had lived in an iron frame for about two years; and when I was taken out of it, and was supposed to be allowed to walk a little, the desire to move had gone. My parents did not like to urge me, and so six months passed away and I was still carried from room to room, still lay reading most of the day, and was quietly content. It was only now and then that mother's anxious look at me told that she was not satisfied; father and I seemed to have made up our minds that I was to be an invalid for the rest of my life, so I listened anxiously for his answer to mother's remark about the doctor.
 
"Do you really think it would do the boy good to be tormented by a lot of rough, strong children? Then let them come, but keep them out of my sight. I hate noise almost as much as Edric does."
 
"I had settled all that, dear, before I ever spoke to you about it. There's the tower room—it is big and airy, and right at the top of the house—I thought they should have that for their playroom."
 
"You'd better call it their den at once," said father, leaning over my shoulder to read the title of my book. "There are about twenty panes of glass in it now. I wonder how many whole ones there will be when the holidays are over. How do you like the idea of the invasion of the savages, my boy?" he added, in the tender tone in which he always addressed me.
 
"Who are they, father?" I asked, laying my thin white hand in his brown, strong one.
 
"Your Uncle George's children, dear. He sent them to school at Bath, and intended to be in England for their summer holidays, but he was prevented from leaving Sydney just at the last minute; and your Aunt Mary has written to ask if we will let them all spend the time here. There are four of them, three boys and a girl who is as big a boy as any of them, I believe. What do you think of it, Edric?"
 
"I think I shall like seeing Cousin Kathleen," I said, rather shyly; even with my parents it was rather difficult for me to speak my thoughts. "She has often sent nice messages to me, and this is the book-marker she made for me. Perhaps she will read to me, and show me how to play chess."
 
"We will burn all those books, lad," said father, sweeping a little heap off my sofa to the floor. "Let me carry you out to see the high tide."
 
"Not just now, father, please," I said, cuddling the last remaining book in my arms. "I want to see what becomes of Rupert in the Redskins' camp."
 
"That's good," said father, laughing heartily. "Your eldest cousin's name is Rupert, and we shall soon be wanting to know what becomes of Edric in Rupert's den."
 
"When are they coming?" I asked, with a faint trembling at my heart. Mother had taught me to be kind in my thoughts of every one, but I began to be a little afraid of these stranger cousins.
 
"They may be here next week; but I am not sure what day the school breaks up."
 
"Well, I will go and see about getting the tower room ready," said mother, when father had gone out to look at a new horse which he had bought for the farm. "Do you want anything before I go, darling?"
 
"No, thank you, mother."
 
As she bent down to kiss me before she left me, mother looked longingly into my face.
 
"I believe you look better already, dear. Don't you think that—— Why, darling, what's the matter; there are tears in your eyes."
 
Of course it was silly for a boy of twelve to begin to cry because his cousins were coming to stay with him, but I feel bound to let you know the whole truth about myself. I couldn't possibly say what I was crying for, but I suppose that I was in a weak and morbid state.
 
"You'll love me still, mother, won't you," I whispered, clinging to her neck; "and you won't let them make me do anything I don't want to?"
 
Poor mother! If I had only known, that was just the very reason she wanted my cousins to come; but she comforted me, and promised faithfully I should be left to myself as much as I liked.
 
"They will have their den, as your father calls it, and you needn't go in it unless you like. Now I will go and see about getting it ready. It will want brightening up a bit. Nobody has ever used it since I have lived here, and that is nearly fourteen years. Good-bye, dear; don't read too much."
 
She had her hand on the door before I could summon courage to speak what was in my mind.
 
"I've never been in the tower room, mother. Do you think I might go with you, just to see it before they come?"