They landed upon a Saturday, upon one of those delightsome days that April frequently gives to New York.  There was a fresh wind, full of the smell of the earth and the sea; an intensely blue sky, with flying battalions of white fleecy clouds across it; a glorious sunshine above everything.  And people live, and live happily, even in the shadow of war.  The stores were full of buyers and sellers.  The doors and windows of the houses were open to the spring freshness.  Lysbet had heard of their arrival, and was watching for them.  Her hair was a little whiter, her figure a little stouter; but her face was fair and rosy, and sweet as ever.

[Illustration:  Lysbet and Catherine were unpacking]

In a few hours things had fallen naturally and easily into place.  Joris and Bram and Hyde sat talking of the formation of a regiment.  Little Joris leaned on his grandfather’s shoulder listening.  Lysbet and Katherine were busy unpacking trunks full of fineries and pretty things; occasionally stopping to give instructions to Dinorah, who was preparing an extra tea, as Batavius and Joanna were coming to spend the evening.  “And to the elder and Janet Semple I have sent a message, also,” said Lysbet; “for I see not why anger should be nursed, or old friendships broken, for politics.”

Katherine had asked at once, with eager love, for Joanna; she had expected that she would be waiting to welcome her.  Lysbet smiled faintly at the supposition.  “She has a large family, then, and Batavius, and her house.  Seldom comes she here now.”

But about four o’clock, as Katherine and Hyde were dressing, Joanna and Batavius and all their family arrived.  In a moment, their presence seemed to diffuse itself through the house.  There was a sense of confusion and unrest, and the loud crying of a hungry baby determined to be attended to.  And Joanna was fulfilling this duty, when Katherine hastened to meet her.  Wifehood and motherhood had greatly altered the slim, fair girl of ten years before.  She had grown stout, and was untidy in her dress, and a worried, anxious expression was continually on her countenance.  Batavius kept an eye on the children; there were five of them beside the baby,—­fat, rosy, round-faced miniatures of himself, all having a fair share of his peculiar selfish traits, which each expressed after its individual fashion.

Hyde met his brother-in-law with a gentlemanly cordiality; and Batavius, who had told Joanna “he intended to put down a bit that insolent Englishman,” was quite taken off his guard, and, ere he was aware of his submission, was smoking amicably with him, as they discussed the proposed military organization.  Very soon Hyde asked Batavius, “If he were willing to join it?”

“When such a family a man has,” he answered, waving his hand complacently toward the six children, “he must have some prudence and consideration.  I had been well content with one child; but we must have our number, there is no remedy.  And I am a householder, and I pay my way, and do my business.  It is a fixed principle with me not to meddle with the business of other people.”