l be, and Rebecca!" said Edith, with a happy
laugh.

"I reckon they'll have some work to pack us all in," answered
Temperance.

"Let be, children," was the response of Lady Louvaine. "The Hill House
is great enough to hold every one of us, and Aunt Joyce's heart is yet
bigger."

For a coach and six to draw up before the door of a country house was
then an event which scarcely occurred so often as once a year. It was
no great wonder, therefore, if old Rebecca looked almost dazed as she
opened the door to so large a party.

"We are going home, Rebecca!" cried Edith's bright, familiar voice.
"How fares my Aunt?"

"Eh, you don't mean it's you, mine own dear child?" cried the old
servant lovingly. "And your Ladyship belike! Well, here is a blessed
even! It'll do the mistress all the good in the world. Well, she's
very middling, my dear--very middling indeed: but I think 'tis rather
weariness than any true malady, and that'll flee afore the sight of you
like snow afore the warm sun. Well, there's a smart few of you!--all
the better, my dear, all the better!"

"You can hang one or two of us up in a tree, if you can't find us room,"
said Aubrey as he sprang from his saddle.

"There's room enough for such good stuff, and plenty to spare," answered
old Rebecca. "If you was some folks, now, I might be glad to have the
spare chambers full of somewhat else--I might! Come in, every one of
you!"

"We'll help you to make ready, all we can," said Rachel, as she trudged
after Rebecca to the kitchen.

"Ay, we will," echoed Charity.

Warmer and tenderer yet was the welcome in the Credence Chamber, where
Aunt Joyce lay on her couch, looking as though not a day had passed
since she bade them farewell. She greeted each of them lovingly until
Aubrey came to her. Then she said, playfully yet meaningly,--"Who is
this?"

"Aunt Joyce," replied Aubrey, as he bent down to kiss her, "shall I say,
`A penitent fool?'"

"Nay, my lad," was the firm answer. "A fool is never a penitent, nor a
penitent a fool. The fool hath been: let the penitent abide."

"This is our dear, kind friend, Mr Marshall, Joyce," said Lady
Louvaine. "He is so good as to come with us, and be our chaplain at
Selwick: and here is his daughter."

"I think Mrs Joyce can guess," said the clergyman, "that the true
meaning of those words is that her Lady ship hath been so good as to
allow of the same, to our much comfort."

"Very like you are neither o