“There was no longer any doubt that he was safe in his old home; but where were his brothers and sisters?  With a beating heart he crept to the other end of the bed; and there lay the prodigal, but with no haggard cheeks or sunken eyes, no grey locks or miserable rags, but a rosy yellow-haired urchin fast asleep, with his head upon his arm.  ’I took his pillow,’ muttered Melchior, self-reproachfully.

“A few minutes later, young Hop-o’-my-Thumb (whom Melchior dared not lose sight of for fear he should melt away) seated comfortably on his brother’s back, and wrapped up in a blanket, was making a tour of the ‘barracks.’

“‘It’s an awful lark,’ said he, shivering with a mixture of cold and delight.

“If not exactly a lark, it was a very happy tour to Melchior, as, hope gradually changing into certainty, he recognized his brothers in one shapeless lump after the other in the little beds.  There they all were, sleeping peacefully in a happy home, from the embryo hero to the embryo philosopher, who lay with the invariable book upon his pillow, and his hair looking (as it always did) as if he lived in a high wind.

“‘I say,’ whispered Melchior, pointing to him, ’what did he say the other day about being a parson?’

“‘He said he should like to be one,’ returned Hop-o’-my-Thumb; ’but you said he would frighten away the congregation with his looks.  And then, you know, he got very angry, and said he didn’t know priests need be dandies, and that everybody was humbuggy alike, and thought of nothing but looks; but that he would be a philosopher like Diogenes, who cared for nobody, and was as ugly as an ape, and lived in a tub.’

“‘He will make a capital parson,’ said Melchior, hastily, ’and I shall tell him so to-morrow.  And when I’m squire here, he shall be vicar, and I’ll subscribe to all his dodges without a grumble.  I’m the eldest son.  And, I say, don’t you think we could brush his hair for him in a morning, till he learns to do it himself?’

“‘Oh, I will!’ was the lively answer; ’I’m an awful dab at brushing.  Look how I brush your best hat!’

“‘True,’ said Melchior.  ‘Where are the girls to-night?’

“‘In the little room at the end of the long passage,’ said Hop-o’-my-Thumb, trembling with increased chilliness and enjoyment.  ’But you’re never going there! we shall wake the company, and they will all come out to see what’s the matter.’

“‘I shouldn’t care if they did,’ said Melchior, ’it would make it feel more real.’

“As he did not understand this sentiment, Hop-o’-my-Thumb said nothing, but held on very tightly; and they crept softly down the cold grey passage in the dawn.  The girls’ door was open; for the girls were afraid of robbers, and left their bed-room door wide open at night, as a natural and obvious means of self-defence.  The girls slept together; and the frill of the pale sister’s prim little night-cap was buried in the other one’s uncovered curls.