Ernest did not decide at once . For a week he thought the matter over , weighing pros and cons carefully . To take the two Sinclair boys meant a double portion of toil and self-denial . Had he not enough to bear now ? But , on the other side , was it not his duty , nay , his privilege , to help the children if he could ? In the end he said to his mother : `` We 'll take the little fellows , Mother . I 'll do the best I can for them . We 'll manage a corner and a crust for them . '' So Danny and Frank Sinclair came to the little cottage . Frank was eight and Danny six , and they were small and lively and mischievous . They worshipped Mrs. Duncan , and thought Ernest the finest fellow in the world . When his birthday came around in March , the two little chaps put their heads together in a grave consultation as to what they could give him . `` You know he gave us presents on our birthdays , '' said Frank . `` So we must give him something . '' `` I 'll div him my pottet-knife , '' said Danny , taking the somewhat battered and loose-jointed affair from his pocket , and gazing at it affectionately . `` I 'll give him one of Papa 's books , '' said Frank . `` That pretty one with the red covers and the gold letters . '' A few of Mr. Sinclair 's books had been saved for the boys , and were stored in a little box in their room . The book Frank referred to was an old History of the Turks , and its gay cover was probably the best of it , since its contents were of no particular merit . On Ernest 's birthday both boys gave him their offerings after breakfast .
`` Here 's a pottet-knife XXXXX you , '' said Danny graciously .
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