Towards evening, the two young men returned, soaking with wet and covered with mud, but with light hearts, for they had found their companions in the enjoyment of perfect health and in the best spirits.  They brought back with them a missive, couched in the following terms:—­

“Mr. and Mrs. Wolston, greeting, desire the favor of Mr. and Mrs. Becker’s company to dinner, together with their entire family, this day se’nnight, weather permitting.”

Ernest was hereupon consulted, and stated that, in so far as the rain was concerned, they should in eight days be able to undertake the journey to Rockhouse.  This assurance was not, however, entirely relied upon, for between this and then many an anxious eye was turned skywards, as if in search of some more conclusive evidence.  Those who possess a garden—­and he who has not, were it only a box of mignionette at the window—­will often have observed, in consequence of absence or forgetfulness, that their flowers have begun to droop; they hasten to sprinkle them with water, then watch anxiously for signs of their revival.  So both families continued unceasingly during these eight days to note the ever-varying modifications of the clouds.

At length the much wished-for day arrived; the morning broke with a blaze of sunshine, and though hidden with a dense mist, the ground was sufficiently hardened to bear their weight.  Wolston awaited his guests at a bridge of planks that had been thrown across the Jackal River, where he and Willis had erected a sort of triumphal arch of mangoe leaves and palm branches.  Here Becker and his family were welcomed, as if the one party had just arrived from Tobolsk, and the other from Chandernagor, after an absence of ten years.

Another warm reception awaited them at Rockhouse, where an abundant repast was already spread in the gallery.  Mrs. Becker had often intended to work herself a pair of gloves, but the increasing demand for stockings had hitherto prevented her.  She was pleased, therefore, on sitting down to dinner, to discover a couple of pairs under her plate, with her own initials embroidered upon them.

“Ah,” said she, “I was almost afraid I had lost my daughters, but I have found them again.”

After dinner the girls showed her a quantity of cotton they had spun, which proved that, though they might have been dull, they had, at least, been industrious.

“Mary span the most of it,” said Sophia; “but you know, Mrs. Becker, she is the biggest.”

“Oh, then,” said Jack, “the power of spinning depends upon the bulk of the spinner?”

“Oh, Master Jack, I thought you had been ill, that you had not commenced quizzing us before.”

“Never mind him, Soffy,” said her father; “to quote Hudibras,

  “There’s nothing on earth hath so perfect a phiz,
  As not to give birth to a passable quiz.”

Here Willis led in the chimpanzee, who made a grimace to the assembled company.