if
nothing had happened.

"You look well, Eleanor. Bless me, I never saw your complexion better!
but how your hair is dressed! That isn't the way now; but you'll get to
rights soon. I've got a purple muslin for you that will be beautiful.
Your whole wardrobe will want attention, but I have everything
ready--dress-maker and all--only waiting for you. Think of your being
gone seven months and more! But never mind--we'll let bygones be
bygones. I am not going to rake up anything. We'll go to Brighton and
have everything pleasant."

"How soon, mamma?"

"Just as soon as I can get you dressed. And Eleanor! I wish you would
immediately take a review of all your wardrobe and all I have got for
you, and see if I have omitted anything."

"What has put you into the notion of Brighton, mamma?"

"Everybody is there now--and we want a change. I think it will do your
father good."

To see her father was the next thing; and here there was some comfort.
The squire was undoubtedly rejoiced to see his daughter and welcomed
her back right heartily. Made much of her in his way. He was the only
one too who cared much to hear of Mrs. Caxton and her way of life and
her farm. The squire did care. Eleanor was kept a long time answering
questions and giving details. It cost her some hard work.

"She is a good woman, is my sister Caxton," said the Squire; "and she
has pluck enough for half a dozen. The only thing I have against her is
her being a Methodist. She hasn't made a Methodist of you, hey,
Eleanor?"

"I don't think she has, papa," Eleanor answered slowly.

"That's the only fault _I_ have to find with her," the Squire went on;
"but I suppose women must have an empty corner of their heads, where
they will stick fancies if they don't stick flowers. I think flowers
are the most becoming of the two. Wears a brown gown always, don't she?"

"No, sir."

"I thought they did," said the Squire; "but she's a clever woman, for
all that, or she wouldn't carry on that business of the farm as she
does. Your mother don't like the farm; but I think my sister is right.
Better be independent and ask leave of nobody. Well, you must get
dressed, must you. I am glad to have you home, child!"

"Why are we going to leave home, papa?"

"St. George and the Dragon! Ask your mother."

So Eleanor did not get much wiser on the subject till dinner-time; nor
then either, though it was nearly the only thing talked about, both
directly and indirectly.