shadow of a family cloud, a certain mysterious personage of tender
years, Lewis Leighton, by name.

For weeks the name of Lewis Leighton had been whispered about the house,
first by the grown-ups and finally, when the Reverend Orme and his wife
had come to the great decision, by the children. The children knew
nothing of the great decision nor did they know the sources of their
sudden joy. Their spirits were reaching out to clasp this new thread in
life at an age when all new threads are golden.

On the appointed day the Reverend Orme went to the nearest seaport to
meet the youthful voyager and convoy him home. As evening drew near,
great was the excitement at Consolation Cottage. To Natalie and to
Shenton, the sudden arrival of an entirely new brother, not in
swaddling-clothes, but handed down ready-made from the shelf, was an
event that loomed to unusual proportions. At last the great gate swung
open, and a cab rattled its leisurely way up the drive.

In an instant the children were on their feet, jumping up and down and
clapping their hands. "Mother," shouted Shenton, "they're coming!"
Little Natalie clambered in stumbling haste up the steps and clutched
Mrs. Leighton's skirts. "Muvver," she cried, in an agony of ecstasy,
"they're _coming!_"

"Yes, yes, dear; I see. Oh, look how you've rumpled your dress! What
will Lewis say to that? Come, Shenton, give mother your hand." Slowly
she led them down the steps, her eyes fixed on the approaching cab.

The Reverend Orme sprang out and up to meet them. He kissed his wife and
children. Shenton clung to his arm.