“He wont hurt you——­” began Bab, encouragingly; but before she could add a chiding word to the dog, Sanch gave an excited howl, and flew at the man’s throat as if about to throttle him.

Betty screamed, and Bab was about to go to the rescue when both perceived that the dog was licking the stranger’s face in an ecstasy of joy, and heard the man say as he hugged the curly beast: 

“Good old Sanch!  I knew he wouldn’t forget master, and he doesn’t.”

“What’s the matter?” called Ben, coming up briskly, with a strong grip of his stout stick.

There was no need of any answer, for, as he came into the shadow, he saw the man, and stood looking at him as if he were a ghost.

“It’s father, Benny; don’t you know me?” asked the man, with an odd sort of choke in his voice as he thrust the dog away, and held out both hands to the boy.

Down dropped the nuts, and crying, “Oh, Daddy, Daddy!” Ben cast himself into the arms of the shabby velveteen coat, while poor Sanch tore round them in distracted circles, barking wildly, as if that was the only way in which he could vent his rapture.

What happened next, Bab and Betty never stopped to see, but, dropping from their roost, they went flying home like startled Chicken Littles with the astounding news that “Ben’s father has come alive, and Sancho knew him right away!”

Mrs. Moss had just got her cleaning done up, and was resting a minute before setting the table, but she flew out of her old rocking-chair when the excited children told the wonderful tale, exclaiming as they ended: 

“Where is he?  Go bring him here.  I declare it fairly takes my breath away!”

Before Bab could obey, or her mother compose herself, Sancho bounced in and spun round like an insane top, trying to stand on his head, walk upright, waltz and bark all at once, for the good old fellow had so lost his head that he forgot the loss of his tail.

“They are coming! they are coming!  See, Ma, what a nice man he is,” said Bab, hopping about on one foot as she watched the slowly approaching pair.

“My patience, don’t they look alike!  I should know he was Ben’s Pa anywhere!” said Mrs. Moss, running to the door in a hurry.

They certainly did resemble one another, and it was almost comical to see the same curve in the legs, the same wide-awake style of wearing the hat, the same sparkle of the eye, good-natured smile and agile motion of every limb.  Old Ben carried the bag in one hand while young Ben held the other fast, looking a little shame-faced at his own emotion now, for there were marks of tears on his cheeks, but too glad to repress the delight he felt that he had really found Daddy this side heaven.

Mrs. Moss unconsciously made a pretty little picture of herself as she stood at the door with her honest face shining and both hands out, saying in a hearty tone, which was a welcome in itself: