“Dear old fellow!” murmured Jock.

“Everybody is somewhat frantic,” said Barbara.

“Jock’s varieties of classes were almost distracted and besieged the door, till Susan was fain to stick the last bulletins in the window to save answering the bell; then no sooner did they hear he was better than they began getting up a testimonial.  Percy Stagg wrote to me, to ask for his crest for some piece of plate, and I wrote back that I was sure Dr. Lucas Brownlow would like it best to go in something for the Mission Church; and if they wanted to give him something for his very own, suppose they got him a brass plate for the door?”

“Bravo, Infanta; that was an inspiration!”

“So they are to give an alms-dish, and Ali and Elfie give the rest of the plate.  Dr. Medlicott says he never saw anything like the feeling at the hospital, or does not know what the nurses don’t mean to get up by way of welcome.”

“My dear Babie, you must let Jock write his letters,” interposed her mother, who had tears in her eyes and saw him struggling with emotion.  “In spite of your magnificent demonstrations, Jock, you must repair your charms by lying down.”

She followed him into his room, which opened from the sitting-room, and he turned to her, speaking from a full heart.  “Oh, mother!  It seems all given to me, the old home, the very post I wished for, and all this kindness, just when I thought I had taken leave of it all.”  He sobbed once or twice for very joy.

“You are sure it suits you?”

“If I only can suit it equally well!  Oh, I see what you mean.  That is over now.  I suppose the fever burnt it out of me, for it does not hurt me now to see the dear old Monk beaming on her.  I am glad she came, for I can feel sure of myself now.  So there’s nothing at present to come between me and my Mother Carey.  Thanks, mother, I’ll just fire off my two notes; and establish myself luxuriously before Cecil comes back!  I say, this is the best inn’s best room.  Poor Mrs. Evelyn must have thought herself providing for Fordham.  Oh yes, I shall gladly lie down when these notes are done, but this is not a chance to be neglected.  Now, Deo gratias, it will be my own fault if Magnum Bonum is not worked out to the utmost; yes, much better than if we had never gone to America.  Even Bobus owns that all things have worked together for good!”

His mother, with another look at the face, so joyous though still so wasted and white, went back to the other room, with an equally happy though scarcely less worn countenance.

“I hope he is resting,” said Mrs. Evelyn.  “Are you quite satisfied about him?”