ther thin, and slightly bald. The bristling
red mustache had turned to gray and drooped. His whole figure drooped.
His black clothes hung in many careless creases, and as he came forward
it was not with his old quick, all-conquering step, but haltingly, as
though Mrs. Bannister owned the room and he doubted if he were welcome.
I lost my embarrassment in wonder. I recalled my old fond pictures of
Rufus Blight when he should have grown older and fatter, more pompous
and more all-commanding. I watched the little dusty man draw
Penelope's head down to him and kiss her. I looked around the room, at
the great fireplace, at the Reynolds, at the carved table and the
costly empty spaces, and I lost myself in the marvel that he should
have attained them.

"Uncle Rufus," Penelope said, drawing him toward me, "here is some one
you will be glad to see. It's David Malcolm, my old friend David
Malcolm."

"Why, David Malcolm--my old friend, too," cried Mr. Blight, his face
lighting genially as he took my hand. "The boy who wouldn't let me
have Penelope. Upon my word, David, I didn't blame you."

He laughed and shook my hand again and again. He asked after my father
and mother as though they were his dearest friends, and I contrasted
his cordial mention of them with his once cavalier treatment, but when
he made me sit beside him on the divan and meet and answer a rapid fire
of questions as to myself and my occupation, the old prejudices began
to disappear before his simple, unaffected kindness. Penelope was on
his other side, and her hand was in his. I forgave him. I forgot the
neglect of long ago. I forgot even the mystery of the letters. I
forgot the fat, pompous, all-commanding man. This was a meeting of
three rare old friends. Mrs. Bannister, too, had gone from my
thoughts. If she still regarded me over the top of her cup, I was
unconscious of it, for I was telling how I had come to meet Penelope
again, and he was recalling the day when, as a small boy, I had
resisted him so vigorously.

"It has all turned out well, eh, David?" Rufus Blight said, laying a
hand upon my knee. "Here we are--the three of us--just as if we had
never quarrelled--good friends; and it is good to find old friends. We
haven't many old friends, Penelope and I. Indeed, but for Mrs.
Bannister"--he bowed to the majestic woman--"we should have few new
ones. An old one recovered is too precious to lose; and we are not
going to lose you aga