to her heart, but he rejects
the pure caress, bawling only the louder, and kicking frantically about
the maternal gremium, as the butler announces "Mr. George Warrington,
Mr. Henry Warrington!" Miles is dropped from his mother's lap. Sir
Miles's face emulates Mr. Claypool's waistcoat. The three ladies rise
up, and make three most frigid curtseys, as our two young men enter the
room.

Little Miles runs towards them. He holds out a little hand. "Oh, Harry!
No! which is Harry? You're my Harry," and he chooses rightly this time.
"Oh, you dear Harry! I'm so glad you are come! and they've been abusing
you so!"

"I am come to pay my duty to my uncle," says the dark-haired Mr.
Warrington; "and to thank him for his hospitalities to my brother
Henry."

"What, nephew George? My brother's face and eyes! Boys both, I am
delighted to see you!" cries their uncle, grasping affectionately a hand
of each, as his honest face radiates with pleasure.

"This indeed hath been a most mysterious and a most providential
resuscitation," says Lady Warrington. "Only I wonder that my nephew
Henry concealed the circumstance until now," she adds, with a sidelong
glance at both young gentlemen.

"He knew it no more than your ladyship," says Mr. Warrington. The young
ladies looked at each other with downcast eyes.

"Indeed, sir! a most singular circumstance," says mamma, with another
curtsey. "We had heard of it, sir; and Mr. Claypool, our county
neighbour, had just brought us the intelligence, and it even now formed
the subject of my conversation with my daughters."

"Yes," cries out a little voice, "and do you know, Harry, father and
mother said you was a--a imp----"

"Silence, my child! Screwby, convey Master Warrington to his own
apartment! These, Mr. Warrington--or, I suppose I should say nephew
George--are your cousins." Two curtseys--two cheeses are made--two hands
are held out. Mr. Esmond Warrington makes a profound low bow, which
embraces (and it is the only embrace which the gentleman offers) all
three ladies. He lays his hat to his heart. He says, "It is my duty,
madam, to pay my respects to my uncle and cousins, and to thank your
ladyship for such hospitality as you have been enabled to show to my
brother."

"It was not much, nephew, but it was our best. Ods bobs!" cries the
hearty Sir Miles, "it was our best!"

"And I appreciate it, sir," says Mr. Warrington, looking gravely round
at the family.

"Give us thy hand. Not a wo