from her fellow-creatures as
to hesitate to enter any abode, however humble, and to minister to the
needy; and the gentle lady sat with her silken robes falling over the
home-spun carpet, and her soft features exposed to the glare and steam
of that common room, looking with a happy heart upon the joyous group
before her. The poor widow, with her gown of print and checked apron,
laid down her weary needle to attend to the sweet voice that ever
sounded so soothingly in her ear, and the delighted child shook its
rough toys, holding them up to the view, first of one, and then the
other, and laughing aloud in her boisterous glee.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Mr. Bond was coming home! the glad news was in Nannie's hand, and he was
even then bounding over the waters toward his lowly friends.

The room looked very sunny that morning, and the hearts of the expectant
ones danced for joy. He would be there the next week, and they must all
be there to meet him on Friday--that seemed so like a reality, to name
the very day. Pat could request a holiday of his employers, and, as for
Mrs. Minturn, she was sure to participate in all of Nannie's pleasures,
and would be ready with the permission to spend the important day at her
mother's. The greatest trouble was the intervening hours; how could they
be comfortably disposed of! they had duties enough to perform, and yet
the time went slowly and wearily; but it had an end, and a happy
one--for the kind face was before them, as fat and merry and amiable as
ever, and the immense corporosity moved about the room with as much
gravity as so jolly a person was capable of. Nobody would have suspected
that he had ever been ill, or that the shadow of a sorrow had ever
troubled him. Seated beside the window with the June air playing blandly
upon his forehead, he congratulated himself that he was once more among
his friends. What if they were humble and poor! there was a depth and
richness in their love for him that neither comes of station nor wealth,
and it sunk soothingly and gratefully into his glad heart, making it
fruitful in a pure joy.

"It is not quite so pleasant bouncing up and down at the will of the
angry waves, Nannie," said he, "as to sit quietly in this lolling-chair
with your friends all about you, I can tell you, my girl!" and he looked
at Nannie with a twinkle and a laugh, as if to say, "I'm well out of it,
though. The ocean doesn't have any mercy on a body's bones, but tosses
you