e--"

"Miss Walkinghame?" said the sailor, who had felt at home with her at
the first word, and she flew into his great rough arms.

"Harry! this is dear Harry! our own dear sailor come back," cried she,
as her husband stood astonished; and, springing towards him, she put
Harry's hand into his, "My brother Harry! our dear lost one."

"Your--brother--Harry," slowly pronounced George, as he instinctively
gave the grasp of greeting--"your brother that was lost? Upon my word,"
as the matter dawned fully on him, and he became eager, "I am very glad
to see you. I never was more rejoiced in my life."

"When did you come? Have you been at home?" asked Flora.

"I came home yesterday--Mary wrote to tell you."

"Poor dear old Mary! There's a lesson against taking a letter on trust.
I thought it would be all Cocksmoor, and would wait for a quiet moment!
How good to come to me so soon, you dear old shipwrecked mariner!"

"I was forced to come to report myself," said Harry, "or I could not
have come away from my father so soon."

The usual questions and their sad answers ensued, and while Flora talked
to Harry, fondly holding his hand, Norman and Meta explained the history
to George, who no sooner comprehended it, that he opined it must have
been a horrid nuisance, and that Harry was a gallant fellow; then
striking him over the shoulder, welcomed him home with all his kind
heart, told him he was proud to receive him, and falling into a state of
rapturous hospitality, rang the bell, and wanted to order all sorts
of eatables and drinkables, but was sadly baffled to find him already
satisfied.

There was more open joy than even at home, and Flora was supremely happy
as she sat between her brothers, listening and inquiring till far past
one o'clock, when she perceived poor George dozing off, awakened every
now and then by a great nod, and casting a wishful glance of resigned
remonstrance, as if to appeal against sitting up all night.

The meeting at breakfast was a renewal of pleasure. Flora was proud and
happy in showing off her little girl, a model baby, as she called her,
a perfect doll for quietness, so that she could be brought in at family
prayers; "and," said Flora, "I am the more glad that she keeps no
one away, because we can only have evening prayers on Sunday. It is a
serious thing to arrange for such a household."

"She is equal to anything," said George.

The long file of servants marched in, George read sonorou