l
baggage and started off home.

Our house and grounds never looked prettier than they did that morning,
as we stood at the gate. Lord Edward barked a welcome from his shed, and
before we reached the door, Pomona came running out, her face radiant.

"I'm awful glad to see you back," she said; "though I'd never have said
so while you was in camp."

I patted the dog and looked into the garden. Everything was growing
splendidly. Euphemia rushed to the chicken-yard. It was in first-rate
order, and there were two broods of little yellow puffy chicks.

Down on her knees went my wife, to pick up the little creatures, one
by one, press their downy bodies to her cheek, and call them
tootsy-wootsies, and away went I to the barn, followed by Pomona, and
soon afterward by Euphemia.

The cow was all right.

"I've been making butter," said Pomona, "though it don't look exactly
like it ought to, yet, and the skim-milk I didn't know what to do with,
so I gave it to old John. He came for it every day, and was real mad
once because I had given a lot of it to the dog, and couldn't let him
have but a pint."

"He ought to have been mad," said I to Euphemia, as we walked up to the
house. "He got ten cents a quart for that milk."

We laughed, and didn't care. We were too glad to be at home.

"But where are our friends?" I asked Pomona. We had actually forgotten
them.

"Oh! they're gone out for a walk," said she. "They started off right
after breakfast."

We were not sorry for this. It would be so much nicer to see our dear
home again when there was nobody there but ourselves. In-doors we
rushed. Our absence had been like rain on a garden. Everything now
seemed fresher and brighter and more delightful. We went from room to
room, and seemed to appreciate better than ever what a charming home we
had.

We were so full of the delights of our return that we forgot all about
the Sunday dinner and our guests, but Pomona, whom my wife was training
to be an excellent cook, did not forget, and Euphemia was summoned to a
consultation in the kitchen.

Dinner was late; but our guests were later. We waited as long as the
state of the provisions and our appetites would permit, and then we sat
down to the table and began to eat slowly. But they did not come. We
finished our meal, and they were still absent. We now became quite
anxious, and I proposed to Euphemia that we should go and look for them.

We started out, and our steps naturally t