les, the new waggons and caravan--to admire
everything! while the half-frightened looks those sturdy, sun-browned,
bearded men cast at auntie and Aileen were positively comical to witness!

Then, when the first wave of joyous excitement had partially expended
itself--

'Stand back, boys!' shouted Moncrieff's partner, a bold-faced little
Welshman, with hair and beard just on the turn; 'stand back, my lads, and
give them one more little cheer.'

But was it a little cheer? Nay, but a mighty rattling cheer--a cheer that
could have issued only from brave British throats; a cheer that I almost
expected to hear re-echoed back from the distant mountains.

Ah! but it _was_ echoed back. Echoed by us, the new-comers, and with
interest too, our faithful Gauchos swelling the chorus with their shrill
but not unmusical voices.

But look! more people are coming down the road. The welcome home is not
half over yet. Yonder are the lads and lasses, English, Irish, Castilian
and Scotch, who have no horses to ride. Foremost among them is a
Highlander in tartan trews and bagpipes. And if the welcome these give us
is not altogether so boisterous it is none the less sincere.

In another hour we are all safe at home. All and everything appears to us
very strange at first, but we soon settle down, and if we marvelled at the
outside of Moncrieff's mansion, the interior of it excites our wonder to
even a greater degree. Who could have credited the brawny Scot with so
much refinement of taste? The rooms were large, the windows were bowers,
and bowers of beauty too, around which climbed and trailed--winter though
it was--flowers of such strange shapes and lovely colours that the best of
our floral favourites in this country would look tame beside them. None of
the walls were papered, but all were painted, and many had pictures in
light, airy and elegant frames. The furniture too was all light and
elegant, and quite Oriental in appearance. Oriental did I say? Nay, but
even better; it was Occidental. One room in particular took my aunt's
fancy. This was to be the boudoir, and everything in it was the work of
Indian hands. It opened on to a charming trellised verandah, and thence
was a beautiful garden which to-night was lit up with coloured lanterns,
and on the whole looked like a scene in some Eastern fairy tale.

'And would you believe it, Aileen,' said Moncrieff, when he was done
showing us round the rooms; 'would you believe it, auntie, when