"'Mornin', young David, and to you two as well. Torn tells me you're off to visit Petronella over Stiperstones. We heard the old man had gone to Birmingham... HI! BETTY! COME OUT AND SEE MORTONS!" he roared suddenly.

The children all loved Mrs. Ingles, but David wanted to get on and not stand gossiping, so after they had greeted her he said: "What about Tom, Mr. Ingles? Couldn't he come along with us now?"

Mrs. Ingles looked appealingly at her husband, who shook his head ruefully.

"Sorry," he said. "But can't be done now. No good young Tom playing at farming. He'll come over Saturday maybe - that is, if he's specially and properly asked for."

Then Mary sidled over to him.

"Mr. Ingles," she coaxed. "Dickie and me hate calling you that... Mr. Ingles, we mean. It sounds so grown-up and ugly. Only this morning Dickie and me were saying, 'Wish we could call Mr. Ingles Uncle Alf,' we said, didn't we, Dickie?"

"Yes, that's right, Mary. So we did. Just after we'd said our prayers. 'I do love Mr. Ingles,' you said. 'Wish we could call him Uncle Alf!' you said."

Mary nodded, gulped, and curled her little brown hand into the farmer's big, dirty one as she looked up at him with wide, dark-blue eyes. Mr. Ingles, who had no children of his own, cleared his throat, pushed his cap to the back of his head and reddened under his tan.

"That's easy enough, me dear," he muttered. "Uncle I am to young Tom here, and uncle I'll be to you two and proud of it, I'm sure."

There followed a moment's awkward silence as David turned away in embarrassment at this shameless exhibition, and Mrs. Ingles looked at the twins with a doubtful eye.

"Well, Uncle Alf," Mary went on in her clear little voice, "we shall like that very much, shan't we, Dickie?"

"Yes, Uncle Alf, we shall," came the echo.

"And so, Uncle, as this is rather a special sort of day, it would be rather nice if you'd 'low your other little nephew boy Tom to come with us today," and she looked up at him appealingly.

But Mr. Ingles, whose mind may have been a trifle slow on some matters, now seemed to sense the atmosphere and a glance at his wife's amused face confirmed this suspicion.

Suddenly he grinned and banged a huge fist to his knee.

"Dang my eyes!" he roared. "You young villains! 'Twas a try-on, I do believe, just to get young Tom some time off... Come here, young Mary, and I'll be an uncle to you..."

But by now the twins had retreated to a safe distance on the farther side of the gate. Mary was indignant.

"Oh, no, Uncle Alf. Of course, it wasn't because of Tom, although we'd like him to come now very much."

"Thanks, Mary," Tom muttered, "but I'm staying with Uncle. Maybe I'll come for the week-end."