that he would be here with friends in June. I thought he might be
with you. He has been married since he left home, and has a child,
though his wife is dead."

"And he said he was thinking of bringing the child here?" asked Ned,
glancing significantly at Frank. "Did he say that in his last
letter?"

"Yes, that he was thinking of bringing the boy here. It is only a
mite of a boy--not more than seven years old, he said. I'm anxious
for him to come."

Jack and Oliver gathered closer about the old lady in order to hear
every word that was spoken. One brought her more tea and the other
filled the sauce dish with peaches. Ned motioned to them to remain
silent.

"And so you expect him to drop down on you any time?" Ned asked.

"Yes, my son and the boy. He's a cute little chap, Mike says. Mike
was named for his father, and the lad's name is Mike, too. I'm
anxious for him to get here. And I'm wondering whether he's light and
blonde, with brown hair and blue eyes like his father, or dark, like
my side of the family.

"What do you make of it?" Jack whispered to Oliver.

"What do I make of what?" demanded the other.

"Of the old lady and her three Mikes?" replied Jack, scornfully.