ire Stewart, a typical old Scotchman, from every point of view. As
the passengers got out, he stood watching them in silent dignity, until
Mrs. Lloyd, catching sight of him, ran impulsively up, and taking his
face between her two hands, gave him a warm kiss on each cheek, saying:

"Dear father, I'm so glad to see you looking so well."

"And I'm well pleased to see you, Kate," responded the Squire, in a tone
of deep affection, adding: "And is this your boy?" as Bert, who in the
meantime had been lifted down from his place, came to his mother's side.

"He's a fine big boy, and not ill-looking, either. I trust his manners
have not been neglected."

"You'll have to judge of that for yourself, father," replied Mrs. Lloyd.
"He's by no means perfect, but he's pretty good, upon the whole."

"Well, daughter, I'll go and get the carriage, if you'll just wait here
a moment," said Mr. Stewart, going off toward the stables.

Presently he returned, driving an elegant carriage with a fine pair of
well-matched bays, which, old man though he was, he held in complete
control.

"We won't mind the trunks now, Kate; I will send in for them in the
morning," said he, as he helped them into their seats.

Maplebank, Squire Stewart's place, was situated about four miles from
Riverton, and on the way out father and daughter had much to say to one
another. As for Bert, he sat in silence on his seat. He felt very much
awed by his grandfather. There was something so stern and severe about
his time-worn countenance, he seemed so stiff in his bearing, and his
voice had such a deep, rough tone in it, that, to tell the truth, Bert
began to feel half sorry he had come. But this feeling disappeared
entirely when, on arriving at Maplebank, he found himself in the arms of
Aunt Sarah before he had time to jump out of the carriage, and was then
passed over to his grandmother, who nearly smothered him with kisses.

If his grandfather filled him with awe, his grandmother inspired him
with love, from the very start. And no wonder, indeed, for she was the
very poetry of a grandmother. A small woman, with slender frame, already
stooping somewhat beneath the burden of years, her snow-white hair and
spotless cap framed one of the sweetest faces that ever beamed on this
earth. Bert gave her his whole heart at once, and during all the days he
spent at Maplebank she was his best loved friend.

Yet he did not fail to be very fond of his two aunts, likewise. Wit