CHAPTER VI.

FURTHER ACQUAINTANCE.

WHEN Mr. Robert Dean opened his front door in response to a faint ring at the bell, and saw three little girls and one very rosy-faced boy standing on the step, he had no idea that it was a self-appointed committee of investigation, and that his character was to be tried by a very exacting standard. Yet such was the case.

Following Margery's suggestion, Beatrice, Amy, and Jack had gone with her to call on the new tenant, to see if by any possibility he could be good enough to be Miss Isabel's husband, in case that were his object in coming to the Evergreens.

The visit was a difficult one, and was made still more so by the committee not finding Mr. Dean in the grounds as they had hoped to do, and thus being obliged to walk deliberately up the steps and ring the bell.

Mr. Dean looked down on them with some surprise, and Margery said faintly:

"We've come to call on you, sir, as you asked us."

"Oh, yes; we've met before," said Mr. Dean, recognizing Trix's black eyes, and laughing as he remembered the plight from which he had rescued her. "I am very glad to see you and so I am sure will Sheila be. Will you kindly walk into my parlor, like four pleasant flies, though I think I am not a spider."

The children thanked him, and followed him into the old house. The parlor was darkened, and their host went to the window and threw open the blind. The light revealed a room furnished in the taste of more than fifty years ago. Haircloth chairs were ranged at intervals around the walls, a carpet strewn with immense roses covered the floor, and the wall-paper in panels representing a tiger hunt so fascinated Jack's wondering gaze that he became quite lost in its contemplation. Margery had perched herself on the haircloth sofa, which was so slippery that she had to hold herself on by the bolster-like ends, for her feet did not nearly reach the floor. She rejoiced when she was rescued from her precarious situation by their host turning from the window with the words:

"My name is Robert Dean. Will you please tell me yours, that we may begin properly?"

All the others looked toward Margery, feeling that as it was her expedition, it was for her to do the honors.

Margery gladly slipped down on her feet.

"This is Beatrice Lane; we call her Trix," she began.

Mr. Dean made a profound bow.

"And the name suits her, if one may judge by appearances," he said.

"And this is Amy Tracy, and my cousin, Jack Hildreth."

"And you?" suggested Mr. Dean. "I should like to call you something too."

"I am Margaret Gresham," said Margery, blushing.

"I think you would be much more comfortable if you would take this low chair that my grandmother embroidered, rather than perch on that abominable sofa again," said her host, handing Margery a small ebony chair with a carved back and a seat of faded satin embroidered with flowers dim with time.

"Thank you," said Margery, with profound inward gratitude. "It seems a pity to sit on it if your grandmother embroidered it."

"It has been used a great many times, and was made for another Margaret, who for many years has been out of the world where things grow old and fade," replied Mr. Dean. "My father had a sister who died when she was just sixteen. This chair, I have been told, grandmother embroidered for her on her fifteenth birthday."

"How lovely to have it still!" said Margery, rising to look at the flowers again. "I am not eleven yet--not till October."

"That is a great age," said Mr. Dean, smiling. "And now you really do not know how glad I am that you came to-day. I was feeling a trifle blue, and wondering if I should be lonely all my life, and just then the bell rang, and four good fairies appeared. By the way," he added, starting up boyishly, "suppose we go into the garden? Sheila can come there; I dare not let her in here for fear of my housekeeper. She is a little woman, and I am a big man, but I am afraid of her. You see she was my old nurse, and I got into the habit of minding her when I was small. I think that she makes pretty good cake, though I am not the judge of cake that I was when I was younger. If you will go into the garden I'll ask her to give us some, and get your opinion."

He led the way through the side door, and the children found themselves at once in such a dear old garden that four "Ah's!" of satisfaction arose.

"What a beautiful, lovely old garden!" cried Trix. "It is as nice as Miss Isabel's."

Mr. Dean turned quickly.

"Do you know Miss Isabel?" he asked.

"Know her!" cried Jack. "She's our best friend."

"And she's lovelier than any one else in all the world," added Trix, with defiance in her voice, remembering who he was and for what he might be there. But Margery kept her big gray eyes fastened on his face, and saw the color come there and his eyes grow moist.

"So she is, Beatrice," he said. "You are fortunate to have her friendship."

Something in his voice melted all Margery's distrust; she slipped her hand confidingly into his.

"We love her more than all the world," she said softly. "We have a club, and her name in the club is Alma Cara."

Some sure instinct always led little Margery to divine the right and kindest thing to do. Mr. Dean looked down on her pale face and earnest eyes.

"And I believe you are the one who named her," he said. And from that moment, though he grew to be very fond of the three other children, Margery was his especial pet and friend.

Mr. Dean left them after this, and returned, bringing the cake and Sheila. The little dog was introduced to Jack in proper form, shook hands with each of her guests, walking over to them on her hind legs to do so, and graciously accepted cake from the children, first sniffing each piece cautiously, like the dainty, well-fed creature that she was.

Mr. Dean touched Amy's badge inquiringly.

"Might one ask what that means?" he said.

"It's a secret," began Amy, looking hesitatingly at the others.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Mr. Dean.

"But I think we could tell Mr. Dean, couldn't we?" suggested Margery.

"Yes," replied all the other members of the club promptly. There was no question but that the investigating committee had made up its mind, individually and collectively, to a favorable report on the stranger.

"It is the Happy Thought Club," explained Amy, indicating the initials on her badge; "and we have a post-office."

And each adding a bit of information, the story of the post-office was told him. Mr. Dean laughed heartily over the names.

"What fun you must have!" he exclaimed. "If I come to return your call, will you show me the post-office?"

"Oh, yes," cried Margery. "I am post-mistress this week. And, you know, we have one honorary member, and she's Miss Isabel, and her name is the Lady Alma Cara. No matter what we do, we always have Miss Isabel, because we can't get on without her."

"It is not easy, my little maid, to get on without Miss Isabel," said Mr. Dean gently. "What would you do if you could not see her, or speak to her, or write to her for ten year?"

"We wouldn't stand it: we will always keep her," cried Trix, firing up, and regarding this as a direct threat from him whom she was still ready to regard as an enemy. But Margery understood.

"I'd hardly be able to breathe," she said pityingly, laying her hand on her new friend's coat-sleeve; "but I'd know it would be better by and by."

"You dear little atom," said Mr. Dean, putting his hand on her dark hair, "it is no wonder that you at least have a white dove on your badge."

In a moment Mr. Dean spoke again, quite cheerfully:

"Now I have been thinking of something while we have been sitting here. I cannot tell how long I shall be at the Evergreens; it may be all summer, it may not be a month. It depends on whether I succeed in what I came to do. I should like to see as much of you as I can while I am here; do you suppose that if I asked you to tea some day before long you would all come?"

"Oh, yes, sir; we'd like to, if we may," said all four children heartily.

"I think that your mothers will allow it," said Mr. Dean. "You see you do not know me, nor I you, because you were all babies when I went away from here, but I knew your mothers and fathers. Now are you not surprised?"

Jack blushed painfully, but Trix said, with great presence of mind:

"I don't think that I ever heard them speak of you."

"Very likely not----" Mr. Dean was beginning, when Amy interrupted him.

"We were afraid of you," she said, in spite of the warning kicks and frowns of the others. Amy had a tendency to frankness that was at times wholly uncontrollable. "We had heard from Trix's waitress, Katie, that you had the evil eye and your house-keeper was a witch, so the day before yesterday, when Sheila found us, we were hiding in the grass to see if you were so bad."

The others watched Mr. Dean anxiously to see what effect this dreadful revelation of Amy's might have, and were relieved when he threw back his head and laughed merrily.

"Well done!" he cried. "I had no idea that I was alarming the neighborhood. I am glad that you decided in my favor, as I suppose you did, since you came to see me."

"Oh, yes; don't mind that nonsense," said Trix, and Margery, rising to go, held out her hand, saying, "I think we shall be real friends."

"Thank you," replied Mr. Dean, bowing over her little fingers as if, as Trix afterwards remarked, "she had really been the Lady Griselda of the Castle."

"Good-by," said the children; "we've had a beautiful time. Come and see us, and we'll show you our post-office."

"Good-by, my dears; thank you for coming, and come often," said Mr. Dean, as he held the garden gate open for them, and watched them go away, while Sheila "shook a day-day with her tail," as Amy said.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Trix, as they walked towards Miss Isabel's, whom they had not seen for four whole days, because she had been away.

"He's all right," said Jack comprehensively.

"I think he's nice," said Amy emphatically.

"He's the nicest man, except my father, I ever saw," announced Trix.

Margery sighed gently.

"I like him," she said, "and I'm sorry for him, because I think he's lonely and feels sad. He's most as nice for a man as Miss Isabel is for a lady." And praise could go no further.

Miss Isabel welcomed her fellow-members of the club heartily.

"We've something very interesting to tell you," said Amy, the moment the salutations were over.

"I am all attention," said Miss Isabel, coming to sit down before them.

"We've been making a call at the Dismals, on Mr. Dean," said Trix.

Miss Isabel sprang up again and went to the window.

"And he's very nice, Miss Isabel," added Margery conscientiously. "We were afraid of him because we heard that he was a robber, or had the evil eye. So we went to see, and it isn't any of it true, and to-day we went to call on him, and we're going to take tea with him soon. He's kind, and he has the loveliest little dog, and he seems not very happy, and we're sorry, because he's nice."

Miss Isabel turned and came back to them.

"And what about the post-office?" she asked, ignoring the new acquaintance.

Trix and Jack stared, Margery looked hurt, and Amy murmured in helpless bewilderment:

"It's very well, thank you."

Suddenly Jack brightened.

"Were you thinking what I was?" he asked. "You know I could easily move those partitions over in the lower row of the post-office, to make it hold another box like the upper row."

"I am afraid I don't understand, Jack," said Miss Isabel.

"Why, then we could ask Mr. Dean to be an honorary member, too," explained Jack.

"Oh, yes!" cried the three girls.

"I'm sure he'd be delighted; he seemed so interested in the office," said Amy.

"Should you mind?" asked Trix. "May we?" while Margery said nothing, but looked eager.

"My dear children, you may do anything you like, and will you do one favor for me?" said Miss Isabel. "If it is not too much trouble, will one of you bring my mail to me every day? It is getting so warm, I shall not feel like going down."

"Why, we'd love to," they all cried.

"Let me do it all the time," begged Jack.

"You will all come; I want you all," said Miss Isabel, rising. "You won't mind if I say good-by? I--I feel tired. Good-night, dears; come back as soon as you can."

She kissed each one lovingly, but there was no mistaking the fact that she was impatient to be left alone.

The children went down the street in wondering silence, which Amy was the first to break.

"Miss Isabel's sick," she said.

"She didn't care one bit about our visit to the Dismals," said Trix.

"And she always cared for everything we cared for," complained Jack. "She's not one bit like our Miss Isabel; I guess she thinks Mr. Dean's bad."

"No," said Margery decidedly; "Miss Isabel's good to bad people. Never mind; she loves us just as much. I think Miss Isabel's not happy to-day. I wonder why nice people are not always happy? Now, I'm sure Mr. Dean's nice, but he seems sad, and to-night our dear Miss Isabel's troubled. We'll ask Mr. Dean to join the post-office--that was a good idea, Jack--and then he won't be so lonely, and we'll love all Miss Isabel's troubles away. Oh, dear," sighed Margery wistfully, "I'd like to make the whole world happy."