as well as tied in a somewhat impromptu fashion with clothes-line.  This pole projected about two feet on either side of the chair to accommodate the bearers, namely Spruce and Bainton, who, having set their burden down, were now wiping their hot faces and perspiring brows with flagrantly coloured handkerchiefs of an extra large size.  As Maryllia appeared, they abruptly desisted from this occupation and remained motionless, stricken with sudden confusion and embarrassment.  Not so old Josey, for with unexpected alacrity he got out of his chair and stood upright, supporting himself on his stick, and doffing his old straw hat to the light girlish figure that approached him with the grace of kindliness and sympathy expressed in its every movement.

“There she be!” he exclaimed; “There be the little gel wot I used to know when she was a babby, God bless ‘er!  Jes’ the same eyes and ’air and purty face of ’er!  Welcome ‘ome to th’ owld Squire’s daughter, mates!  D’ye ’ear me!” And he turned a dim rolling eye of command on Spruce and Bainton—­“I sez welcome ’ome!  And when I sez it I’spect it to be said arter me by the both of ye,—­welcome ’ome!”

Spruce, unable to hear a word of this exordium, smiled sheepishly,—­ and twirling the cap he held, put his coloured handkerchief into it and squeezed it tightly within the lining.  Bainton, with the impending fate of the Five Sisters in view, judged it advisable not to irritate or disobey the old gentleman whom he had brought forward as special pleader in the case, and gathering his wits together he spoke out bravely.

“Welcome ’ome, it is, Josey!” he said; “We both sez it, and we both means it!  And we ’opes the young lady will not take it amiss as ’ow we’ve come to see ’er on the first night of ’er return, and wish ’er ’appy in the old ’ouse and long may she remain in it!”

Here he broke off, his eloquence being greatly disturbed by the gracious smile Maryllia gave him.

“Thank you so much!” she murmured sweetly; and then going up to Josey Letherbarrow, she patted the brown wrinkled hand that grasped the stick.  “How kind and good of you to come and see me!  And so you knew me when I was a little girl?  I hope I was nice to you!  Was I?”

Josey waved his straw hat speechlessly.  His first burst of enthusiasm over, he was somewhat dazed, and a little uncertain as to how he should next proceed with his mission,

“Tell ’er as ’ow the Five Sisters be chalked;” growled Bainton in an undertone.

But Josey’s mind had gone wandering far afield, groping amid memories of the past, and his aged eyes were fixed on Maryllia with a strange look of wonder and remembrance commingled.

“Th’ owld Squire!  Th’ owld Squire!” he muttered; “I see ’im now—­as broad an’ tall and well-set up a gentleman as ever lived—­and sez he:  ’Josey, that little white thing is all I’ve got left of the wife I was bringin’ ‘ome to be the sunshine of the old Manor.’  Ay, he said that!  ‘Its eyes are like those of my Dearest!’ Ay, he said that, too!  The little white thing!  She’s ‘ere,—­and th’ owld Squire’s gone!”