Mamma Plummer read a letter at the dinner-table before she touched her soup. She had been having visitors and had not had time to look at it before. And she was always in a hurry to hear from Aunt Kate.

Aunt Kate! All seven of the young Plummers pricked up their ears.

Aunt Kate was “the right kind,” as Tom Plummer said. She remembered all the young Plummers’ birthdays, and even when she was in Europe sent home beautiful presents that arrived in Poppleton on the very day. A present is so much better on the very day.

“Aunt Kate is lonesome, in her new house, without any young people,” said Mamma Plummer, at last. “She wants to borrow one of you children for six months.”

There was a chorus of delight from the young Plummers. Mamma Plummer sighed a little. People were always saying, “How many there are of the Plummers,” but Mamma Plummer never thought there were too many.

“Probably she wants one of us,” whispered Dorothy, who was sixteen, to Polly, who was eighteen.

Sydney, who was fifteen, waited eagerly. He thought Aunt Kate might have heard of the picture on the barn door and mean to give him a chance to become a great artist. Any one could see that the picture meant a man on horseback, with a pipe in his mouth, and that the man was Michael, their gardener, even if Tom did pretend to think it was the town pump.

Oliver stood up on a round of his chair; he was short, and he had such a little, squeaky voice that he had to get up high to make people notice him.

“She may want one of the youngsters,” said Polly doubtfully. “She said Trixie was a quaint child.”

“I’m not a quaint child,” said Trixie, as if her feelings were hurt. “And I’m not the one who can leave home just as well as not. So many things disagree with Bevis, and the Bantam rooster pecks my chicks.”

“You sha‘n’t go,” said Papa Plummer, patting her head. They all knew that Trixie was a home body. Once, when she tried to stay at Aunt Sarah’s, they had to bring her home in the middle of the night.

“If she wants me,” said Tom, “I’m her man.” But Tom was eating his dinner just as if nothing had happened.

Tom was twelve, and had learned that you can’t have everything you want in this world, and that the things you get sometimes turn out better than the things you want and can’t get.

Another one of the Plummers was quietly eating his dinner. That was because he was sure that Aunt Kate didn’t want him. None of the others had even thought of Sonny Boy. It was a matter of course, they would have said, that Aunt Kate didn’t want Sonny Boy.

Sonny Boy was ten. His name was Peter, but Mamma thought that too large a name for a small boy. Besides, there was another Peter Plummer—his cousin—who lived on Pippin Hill. Both Peters were named for Grandpa Plummer.

All the other Plummers were handsome, but Sonny Boy was snub-nosed and freckled and a trifle cross-eyed, and his curly hair was so red that the boys pretended to warm their hands and light matches by it. He had stooping shoulders, too, and perhaps his legs bowed a little.

And he was not very bright at his lessons, while all the other Plummers were bright.

So, except his mother and grandmother, people didn’t think so very highly of Sonny Boy, though they liked him well enough, and he was very often left out of good times.

Sonny Boy ate his dinner and only thought that the one who was borrowed by Aunt Kate would be pretty lucky. He thought it would be Polly, and he rather hoped so, for Polly always thought he would better be sent to bed early when there was company.

“Mamma Plummer! Please decide who is to go and not keep us waiting!” cried Polly eagerly.

“Your Aunt Kate has decided which one she wants,” said Mamma Plummer. And then her glance wandered down the long table and rested wonderingly, although lovingly, just where one would have least expected.

“Aunt Kate wants Sonny Boy,” she said.

“Sonny Boy!” echoed all the young Plummers in a chorus of astonishment. Every one of them could see plenty of reasons why Aunt Kate should want him or her, but not a single reason why she should want Sonny Boy to stay with her six months.

Sonny Boy blushed red with surprise, and then he blushed redder with delight, and then reddest of all because everybody was looking at him.

And then he stole a glance at Mamma and at Grandma. The first thing is, you know, to be sure that those you love best are glad with you. Then Sonny Boy whispered to Tom.

“If you wanted to go, Tom, I’d stay,” he said.

“Naw-w,” said Tom, with the contempt of one who has not been invited.

“Or if you thought they’d let me belong to the Company, I’d rather stay home and belong than to go to Aunt Kate’s,” added Sonny Boy.

Tom was one of the boys who were getting up a company of soldiers, but Sonny Boy had never dared to say before that he wanted to join it.

Tom laughed aloud. “A great soldier you’d make, Sonny Boy! The fellows wouldn’t want you to belong,” he said.

Tom didn’t mean to be unkind, but he thought that when a boy was rather bow-legged and never had got out of the small school, he ought to know that he wasn’t cut out for a soldier.

“It’s well enough for him to go and visit his Aunt Kate,” thought Tom.

“You must remember not to give Bevis pound-cake when I’m gone,” said Sonny Boy, looking very cross-eyed indeed at Trixie, as he always did when he had a good deal on his mind. And surely to go away from home, suddenly, for six months, is a good deal for any person to have on his mind!