ily as that of the Elderkins. Rose is
overjoyed, and can hardly do enough to make the new home agreeable to
Adele; while the mistress of the house--mild, and cheerful, and sunny,
diffusing content every evening over the little circle around her
hearth--wins Adele to a new cheer. Yet it is a cheer that is tempered by
many sad thoughts of her own loneliness, and of her alienation from any
motherly smiles and greetings that are truly hers.

Phil is away at her coming; but a week after he bursts into the house on
a snowy December night, and there is a great stamping in the hall, and a
little grandchild of the house pipes from the half-opened door, "It's
Uncle Phil!" and there is a loud smack upon the cheek of Rose, who runs
to give him welcome, and a hearty, honest grapple with the hand of the
old Squire, and then another kiss upon the cheek of the old mother, who
meets him before he is fairly in the room,--a kiss upon her cheek, and
another, and another, Phil loves the old lady with an honest warmth that
kindles the admiration of poor Adele, who, amid all this demonstration
of family affection, feels herself more cruelly than ever a stranger in
the household,--a stranger, indeed, to the interior and private joys of
any household.

Yet such enthusiasm is, somehow, contagious; and when Phil meets Adele
with a shake of the hand and a hearty greeting, she returns it with an
outspoken, homely warmth, at thought of which she finds herself blushing
a moment after. To tell truth, Phil is rather a fine-looking fellow at
this time,--strong, manly, with a comfortable assurance of manner,--a
face beaming with _bonhomie_, cheeks glowing with that sharp December
drive, and a wild, glad sparkle in his eye, as Rose whispers him that
Adele has become one of the household. It is no wonder, perhaps, that
the latter finds the bit of embroidery she is upon somewhat perplexing,
so that she has to consult Rose pretty often in regard to the different
shades, and twirl the worsteds over and over, until confusion about the
colors shall restore her own equanimity. Phil, meantime, dashes on, in
his own open, frank way, about his drive, and the state of the ice in
the river, and some shipments he had made from New York to Porto
Rico,--on capital terms, too.

"And did you see much of Reuben?" asks Mrs. Elderkin.

"Not much," and Phil (glancing that way) sees that Adele is studying her
crimsons; "but he tells me he is doing splendidly in some busines