Presently we came in sight of the house, long and low, like the one in Gloucester Street, with a new and unpainted wing just completed.  That day the mist softened its outline and blurred the trees which clustered about it.  Even as we swung into the circle of the drive a rounded and youthful figure appeared in the doorway, gave a little cry, and stood immovable.  It was Patty, in a striped dimity gown with the sleeves rolled up, and her face fairly shone with joy as I leaped from my horse and took her hands.

“So you like my surprise, girl?” said her father, as he kissed her blushing face.

For answer she tore herself away, and ran through the hall to the broad porch in front.

“Our barrister is come, mother,” we heard her exclaiming, “and whom do you think he has brought?”

“Is it Richard?” asked the gentler voice, more hastily than usual.

I stepped out on the porch, where the invalid sat in her armchair.  She was smiling with joy, too, and she held out her wasted hands and drew me toward her, kissing me on both cheeks.

“I thank God for His goodness,” said she.

“And the boy has come to stay, mother,” said her husband, as he stooped over her.

“To stay!” cries Patty.

“Gordon’s Pride is henceforth his home,” replied the barrister.  “And now I can return in peace to my musty law, and know that my plantation will be well looked after.”

Patty gasped.

“Oh, I am so glad!” said she, “I could almost rejoice that his uncle cheated him out of his property.  He is to be factor of Gordon’s Pride?”

“He is to be master of Gordon’s Pride, my dear,” says her father, smiling and tilting her chin; “we shall have no such persons as factors here.”

At that the tears forced themselves into my own eyes.  I turned away, and then I perceived for the first time the tall form of my old friend, Percy Singleton.

“May I, too, bid you welcome, Richard,” said he, in his manly way; “and rejoice that I have got such a neighbour?”

“Thank you, Percy,” I answered.  I was not in a state to say much more.

“And now,” exclaims Patty, “what a dinner we shall have in the prodigal’s honour!  I shall make you all some of the Naples biscuit Mrs. Brice told me of.”

She flew into the house, and presently we heard her clear voice singing in the kitchen.

CHAPTER XLVI

GORDON’S PRIDE

The years of a man’s life that count the most are often those which may be passed quickest in the story of it.  And so I may hurry over the first years I spent as Mr. Swain’s factor at Gordon’s Pride.  The task that came to my hand was heaven-sent.