heir old lodgings again; that it was no joke,
having his rest broken at his time of life; that he could not afford to
keep open house at all hours, for people who were in no ways related to
him."

With such consoling expressions of sympathy in their forlorn condition,
did the hard, worldly old man proceed to unlock the door of their former
domicile; but food, lights, and firing, he would not produce, until
Lyndsay had promised ample remuneration for the same.

Exhausted in mind and body, for she had not broken her fast since eight
o'clock that morning, Flora for a long time refused to partake of the
warm cup of tea her loving partner had made with his own hands for her
especial benefit; and her tears continued to fall involuntarily over the
sleeping babe which lay upon her lap.

Mr. Hawke saw that her nerves were completely unstrung by fatigue, and
ran across the green, and called up Flora's nurse to take charge of the
infant.

Mrs. Clarke, kind creature that she was, instantly hurried to the house
to do what she could for the mother and child. Little Josey was soon
well warmed and fed, and Flora smiled through her tears, when her
husband made his appearance.

"Come, Flora," he cried, "you are ill for the want of food,--I am going
to make some sandwiches for you, and you must be a good girl and eat
them, or I will never cater for you again."

Mr. Hawke exerted all his powers of drollery to enliven the
miscellaneous meal, and Flora soon retired to rest, fully determined to
bear the crosses of life with more fortitude for the future.

The sun was not above the horizon, when she was roused, however, from a
deep sleep, by the stentorian voice of old Kitson, who, anxious to get
rid of his troublesome visitors, cried out, with great glee,--"Hallo! I
say--here is the right steamer at last.--Better late than never. The red
flag is hoisted at her stern; and she is standing right in for the bay.
Quick! Quick, _Leaftenant_ Lyndsay! or you'll be too late."

With all possible despatch Flora dressed herself, though baffled by
anxiety from exerting unusual celerity. The business of the toilet had
to be performed in such a brief space, that it was impossible to attend
to it with any nicety. At last all was completed; Flora hurried down to
the beach, with Hannah and Mrs. Clarke, James Hawke and Lyndsay having
preceded them to arrange their passage to the steamer.

"Make haste, Mrs. Lyndsay," shouted old Kitson; "these big dons