rother, caught him by the
shoulder and pulled him round so as to look him in the face.

"What's the matter, sleepy head?" said Emson, smiling.

"Why, it's himself again," cried Dyke excitedly. "Oh Joe, old man, you
are better and no mistake. I haven't heard you speak like that since I
went to old Morgenstern's.--Oh!"

"What is it?" cried Emson.

"I'm not quite awake yet. Yes I am, but I forgot that he was here, and
about the diamonds; and--Joe, Joe, old chap, I don't believe precious
stones ever did so much good before."

"Don't talk about them, boy," said Emson, holding his brother's hand
tightly in his. "But I do seem as if a terrible load had been taken off
body and brain. I feel this morning that I shall see home again; and I
have talked about going, but never felt that I should see it till now."

"Then hooray for being rich! But, I say!"

"What?"

"Suppose any one one should come and rob us now."

Emson laughed aloud.

"The first trouble that attends wealth, little un. There, we've borne
sorrow and disappointment like men."

"Man and boy, Joe."

"Like men, Dyke, for you have been a better man than I. Now then, we'll
bear prosperity, please God, as patiently and well."

"Why, of course," cried Dyke; "but what did you do with the jolly old
stones?"

"Put them in your bowl, and then in the case. Now see that the
breakfast is got ready. I'm far better, but I feel too weak to help."

"Ah, but you won't long, if you go on like this," cried Dyke, dressing
hurriedly, and beginning to have his morning wash in the bucket. "I say
Joe, though, let's have some luxuries, now, as soon as we can. What do
you say to a wash-hand basin?"

"Oh yes, we'll have that."

"And a sponge? Here, I say: I wonder whether old Morningstar has got
any sponges: we'll buy one. New boots, too: mine are getting like
Paddy's ride in the sedan-chair; I'm on the ground."

"All in good time, little un; all in good time: the first thing now is
breakfast for our good old visitor."

"Ah, we'll have another spoonful of coffee in the pot this morning,
Joe."

The old trader met them at breakfast and smiled as he shook hands.

"Ach ten!" he cried, "but you haf geschlafen wohl, mein vrient. Der
beace of mind is a goot ding. You are besser. You need not speak, for
your eyes are delling me all der dime what dey dink, bube."

"I'm sure he's better," said Dyke eagerly.

"Und he vill zoon be guite himselfs again. I zee y