place. Oh! how I wish you could
take me too." Will smiled.

"I shall be glad to hear the birds and see the places again. But I
don't remember the Ebba, or, indeed, any of the old places, except our
own house and garden, and your mother's cottage, Mrs Snow. I mind the
last time we were there well."

"I mind it, too," said Mrs Snow, gravely.

"And yet, I should be almost sorry to go back again, lest I should have
my ideas disturbed by finding places and people different from what I
have been fancying them all this time. All those old scenes are so many
lovely pictures to me, and it would be sad to go and find them less
lovely than they seem to me now. I have read of such things," said
Graeme.

"I wouldna fear anything of that kind," said Mrs Snow; "I mind them all
so well."

"Do you ever think you would like to go back again?" said Will. "Would
not you like to see the old faces and the old places once more?"

"No, lad," said Mrs Snow, emphatically. "I have no wish ever to go
back."

"You are afraid of the sea? But the steamers are very different from
the old `Steadfast'."

"I was not thinking of the sea, though I would dread that too. But why
should I wish to go back? There are two or three places I would like to
see the glen where my mother's cottage stood, and two or three graves.
And when I shut my eyes I can see them here. No, I have no wish to go
back."

There was a moment's silence, and then Mrs Snow, turning her clear,
kind eyes on her husband, over whose face a wistful, expostulating look
was stealing, said,--

"I like to think about the dear faces, and the old places, sometimes,
and to speak about them with the bairns; it is both sad and pleasant now
and then. But I am quite content with all things as they are. I
wouldna go back, and I wouldna change my lot if I might. I am quite
content."

Mr Snow smiled and nodded in his own peculiar fashion for reply. There
could be no doubt of _his_ content, or Mrs Snow's either, Graeme
acknowledged, and then her thoughts went back to the time when Janet's
lot had been so different. She thought of the husband of her youth, and
how long the grave had closed over him; she remembered her long years of
patient labour in the manse; the bitter home-sickness of the first
months in Merleville, and all the changes that had come since then. And
yet, Janet was not changed. She was the very same. The qualities that
had made her invaluable to them all t