“No, dear, not at all; I think it a most affectionate reply to a cold, selfish letter.”

“Oh, I’m glad to hear you say that.  I can trust better to your tenderness of others’ feelings than to my own heart.  I felt strongly, Esther, and was fearful that it might be too harsh or reproachful.  I was anxious lest my feelings should be too strikingly displayed; yet it was better to be explicit—­don’t you think so?”

“Undoubtedly,” answered Esther; and handing back the letter, she took up baby, and seated herself in the rocking-chair.

Now baby had a prejudice against caps, inveterate and unconquerable; and grandmamma, nurse, and Esther were compelled to bear the brunt of her antipathies.  We have before said that Esther’s cap looked as though it felt itself in an inappropriate position—­that it had got on the head of the wrong individual—­and baby, no doubt in deference to the cap’s feelings, tore it off, and threw it in the half-open piano, from whence it was extricated with great detriment to the delicate lace.

Emily took a seat near the window, and drawing her work-table towards her, raised the lid.  This presenting another opening for baby, she slid down from her mother’s lap, and hastened towards her.  She just arrived in time to see it safely closed, and toddled back to her mother, as happy as if she had succeeded in running riot over its contents, and scattering them all over the floor.

Emily kept looking down the street, as though in anxious expectation of somebody; and whilst she stood there, there was an opportunity of observing how little she had changed in the length of years.  She is little Em magnified, with a trifle less of the child in her face.  Her hair has a slight kink, is a little more wavy than is customary in persons of entire white blood; but in no other way is her extraction perceptible, only the initiated, searching for evidences of African blood, would at all notice this slight peculiarity.

Her expectation was no doubt about to be gratified, for a smile broke over her face, as she left the window and skipped downstairs; when she re-entered, she was accompanied by her intended husband.  There was great commotion amongst the little folk in consequence of this new arrival.  Baby kicked, and screamed out “Unker Char,” and went almost frantic because her dress became entangled in the buckle of her mamma’s belt, and her sister received a kiss before she could be extricated.

Charlie is greatly altered—­he is tall, remarkably athletic, with a large, handsomely-shaped head, covered with close-cut, woolly hair; high forehead, heavy eyebrows, large nose, and a mouth of ordinary size, filled with beautifully white teeth, which he displays at almost every word he speaks; chin broad, and the whole expression of his face thoughtful and commanding, yet replete with good humour.  No one would call him handsome, yet there was something decidedly attractive in his general appearance.  No one would recognize him as the Charlie of old, whose escapades had so destroyed the comfort and harmony of Mrs. Thomas’s establishment; and only once, when he held up the baby, and threatened to let her tear the paper ornaments from the chandelier, was there a twinkle of the Charlie of old looking out of his eyes.