“Well, she has told the story within the limit of ten words, too,” said Hugh, making some excuse for keeping the bit of paper so long before him.

“What prodigal are you going to kill, mamma?” said Gracie, following her mother into the kitchen.

“Oh! that is what we will call the big fat chicken that eats so much oats, and picks the little ones on the back when they try to get a mouthful.  He will do for a prodigal, so we will have him cooked for Elsie’s supper.”

Gracie sat down on a low stool, her face wearing a puzzled expression, and she began to repeat to herself the parable of the prodigal son.  Suddenly a bright look came over her face, for she had solved the troublesome riddle, and she joyfully exclaimed: 

“Oh, mamma!  Dexie didn’t learn it right; they didn’t kill the prodigal, it was the fatted calf that was cooked!  Oh, dear! how funny to make such a mistake, and she such a big girl!  Say, Hugh,” as he passed through the room, “Dexie is the prodigal, and not the fatted calf, isn’t she?”

And with more earnestness than the subject demanded he replied:  “I hope so.”

It was Mr. Gurney who drove to the depot in the evening to meet the travellers, much to the disappointment of Hugh, who hoped to be the first to receive Dexie’s greetings; but the excitement of their arrival had somewhat subsided by the time he made his appearance in the house.

It is needless to say there was great rejoicing in the Gurney household that evening.  Elsie was petted and caressed to her heart’s content, and she listened with a smiling face to the oft-repeated remark that she “looked so much better.”

Hugh’s unexpected good fortune came in for a share of the discussion which took place round the tea-table, and the well-cooked prodigal was the butt of many jokes.  Dexie was asked to come in and get her share of the “fatted calf,” as Gracie persisted in calling it, but she begged to be excused, feeling that she would prefer to spend her first evening at home.

Gussie lost no time in telling Dexie all her hopes and plans, and she gave the impression that everything was settled.  She could talk of nothing but the splendid time she expected to have in the future.

“Hugh does not say much to me, but I know I can do just as I like with him after we are married, so I don’t mind if he is rather cool and short occasionally.  Of course he means to marry me, or why did he talk so long to papa about it?” said Gussie, as she followed Dexie downstairs.

“Did papa tell you about it?” a suspicion of the true state of affairs entering her mind for a moment.

“No—­but—­well, to tell the truth, I was listening at the door, but I heard enough to let me know the nature of the interview, for I heard papa say quite distinctly, ’I don’t think she cares enough for you, and she must marry to suit herself,’ so what else could he have meant?  Now, I do not care so very much about Hugh, I must confess—­or I did not, I mean, when he was merely Mr. Gurney’s clerk, but with a fortune in his pocket who could refuse such a fine-looking man?”