Mrs. Peterkin was overwhelmed with joy at having all her family together once more; but with it a wave of homesickness surged over her.  They were all together; why not go home?

It was found that there was a sailing-vessel bound absolutely for Maine, in which they might take passage.  No more separation; no more mistakes; no more tedious study of guide-books; no more weighing of baggage.  Every trunk and bag, every Peterkin, could be placed in the boat, and safely landed on the shores of home.  It was a temptation, and at one time Mrs. Peterkin actually pleaded for it.

But there came a throbbing in her head, a swimming in her eyes, a swaying of the very floor of the hotel.  Could she bear it, day after day, week after week?  Would any of them be alive?  And Constantinople not seen, nor steam-navigation on the Volga!

And so new plans arose, and wonderful discoveries were made, and the future of the Peterkin family was changed forever.

In the first place a strange stout gentleman in spectacles had followed the Peterkin family to the hotel, had joined in the family councils, and had rendered valuable service in negotiating with the officers of the steamer for the cancellation of their through tickets to Athens.  He dined at the same table, and was consulted by the (formerly) little boys.

Who was he?

They explained that he was their “preceptor.”  It appeared that after they parted from their father, the little boys had become mixed up with some pupils who were being taken by their preceptor to Vesuvius.  For some time he had not noticed that his party (consisting of boys of their own age) had been enlarged; and after finding this out, he had concluded they were the sons of an English family with whom he had been corresponding.  He was surprised that no further intelligence came with them, and no extra baggage.  They had, however, their hand-bags; and after sending their telegram to the lady from Philadelphia, they assured him that all would be right.  But they were obliged to leave Naples the very day of despatching the telegram, and left no address to which an answer could be sent.  The preceptor took them, with his pupils, directly back to his institution in Gratz, Austria, from which he had taken them on this little excursion.

It was not till the end of the winter that he discovered that his youthful charges—­whom he had been faithfully instructing, and who had found the gymnasium and invigorating atmosphere so favorable to growth—­were not the sons of his English correspondent, whom he had supposed, from their explanations, to be travelling in America.

He was, however, intending to take his pupils to Athens in the spring, and by this time the little boys were able to explain themselves better in his native language.  They assured him they should meet their family in the East, and the preceptor felt it safe to take them upon the track proposed.