he started, and his face flushed for a moment,
but when he saw who it was, the look of fear gave way to one of joy, and
his pale face lighted up with gladness as he welcomed the eager boy, who
told him first how sorry he was to find him so sick, and then what a
grand time he had in Europe.

"I have been to the top of Rigi, and old Pilatus and Vesuvius, and
Flegere, and crossed the Mer-de-Glace and Tete Noir, and the Simplon,
and they are all here on my Alpenstock; look, see! but no, you cannot,
it is so dark! I'll raise the curtain."

And Grey hastened to the window, while his grandfather cried out in
alarm:

"Stop, Grey, stop. I'll call your Aunt Hannah! Hannah, come here!"

She was at his side in an instant, bending over him while he whispered:

"Is it safe? Can he see nothing, sure?"

"Nothing, father, nothing," was the reply, and thus reassured the old
man took the Alpenstock, which had done such good service, and looked at
the queer names burned upon it, lingering longest upon the first one,

"Grey Jerrold, Boston, Mass., 18--."

Very rapidly Grey talked of his travels, and the wonders beyond the sea.

"But, after all, America is best," he said, "and I am glad I am an
American. Boston is the place to be born in. Don't you think so,
grandpa?"

"Yes, yes. Did you go to Wales? To Carnarvon?" the old man said, so
abruptly that Grey stopped short and stared at him blankly.

His Aunt Hannah had asked the same question. Could it be they were more
interested in Carnarvon than in Mont Blanc and Vesuvius? If so, he would
confine himself to Carnarvon, and he began again to describe the old
castle, and the birth-room of the first Prince of Wales. Then his
grandfather interrupted him by asking:

"Did you hear of any family there by the name of Rogers?"

"Rogers? No. Why? Did you ever know any one by that name who lived in
Carnarvon?" Grey asked, and his grandfather replied:

"Yes, a great many years ago, longer than you can remember. Joel Rogers,
that was the name, and he had a sister, Elizabeth. You did not hear of
her?"

"Father, father; you are talking too much; you are getting excited and
tired," Hannah interposed in some alarm, but her father replied:

"No. I'm not afraid of Grey, now that I see his face again; it's a face
to be trusted. Grey would not harm his old grandfather. Would you, boy?"
and the childish old man began to cry piteously, while Grey looked
inquiringly at his aunt, and touched his