“The north hill-field is pretty much all ploughed already,” he remarked.

“You’re a good farmer, Governor,” said his mother.  “But I am afraid that praise doesn’t please you.”

“Yes it does, mamma,” he answered smiling a little.

“But it don’t satisfy you?”

“No more than it does you, mamma.  It helps my hope of being a good something else some day.”

“I don’t care much what you are, Governor, if it is only something good,” she said.

He met her grave, wistful eyes, but this time he did not smile; and a stranger might have thought he was exceedingly unimpressible.  Both were silent a bit.

“Well, it will be good to see them,” Mrs. Landholm said, again with that half sighing breath; “and now we must make haste and get all ready to welcome them home.”

CHAPTER VII.

Happy he
With such a mother! faith in womankind
Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high
Comes easy to him. 
TENNYSON.

What a coming home that was.  Who could have guessed that any ungrateful cause had had anything to do with it.  What kisses, what smiles, what family rejoicings at the table, what endless talks round the fire.  What delight in the returned Member of Assembly; what admiration of the future Collegian.  For nobody had given that up; wishes were bidden to wait awhile, that was all; and as the waiting had procured them this dear home-gathering, who could quarrel with it.  Nay, there was no eye shaded, there was no voice untuned for the glad music of that time.

“Well it’s worth going away, to come back again, ain’t it?” said Mr. Landholm, when they were gathered round the fire that first evening.

“No,” said his wife.

“Well, I didn’t think so last winter,” said the father of the family, drawing his broad hand over his eyes.

“I can tell you, I have thought so this great while,” said Rufus.  “It’s —­ it’s seven or eight months now since I have been home.”

“Papa,” said little Winifred, squeezing in and climbing up on her father’s knees, —­ “we have wanted you every night.”

“You did!” said her father, bending his face conveniently down to her golden curls; —­ “and what did you do by day?”

“O we wanted you; but then you know we were so busy in the day-time.”

“Busy!” said her father, —­ “I guess you were busy!”

She made herself busy then, for putting both arms round his neck she pressed and kissed his face, till feeling grew too excited with the indulgence of it, and she lay with her head quite still upon his shoulder where nobody could see her eyes.  The father’s eyes told tales.

“I think Winifred has forgotten me,” observed Rufus.

But Winifred was in no condition to answer the charge.

“Winifred doesn’t forget anybody,” said her father fondly.  “We’re none of us given to forgetting.  I am thankful that we have one thing that some richer folks want —­ we all love one another.  Winifred, —­I thought you were going to shew me that black kitten o’ your’n?”