sir," said Phoebe; "as nigh as man can make it." But soon she began
to fret: "Oh, dear! where are they all? If it was me, I'd be at the door
looking out. Ah, there goes Yuke to rouse them up."

"Come, Pheeb, don't you fidget," said Dick kindly. "Why, the lazy lot
are scarce out of their beds by this time."

"More shame for 'em. If they were away from me, and coming home, I
should be at the door day AND night, I know. Ah!"

She uttered a scream of delight, for just then, out came Ucatella, with
little Tommy on her shoulder, and danced along to meet her. As she came
close, she raised the chubby child high in the air, and he crowed;
and then she lowered him to his mother, who rushed at him, seized,
and devoured him with a hundred inarticulate cries of joy and love
unspeakable.

"NATURE!" said Christopher dogmatically, recognizing an old
acquaintance, and booking it as one more conquest gained over the past.
But there was too much excitement over the cherub to attend to him. So
he watched the woman gravely, and began to moralize with all his might.
"This," said he, "is what we used to call maternal love; and all animals
had it, and that is why the noble savage went for him. It was very good
of you, Miss Savage," said the poor soul sententiously.

"Good of her!" cried Phoebe. "She is all goodness. Savage, find me a
Dutchwoman like her! I'll give her a good cuddle for it;" and she took
the Kafir round the neck, and gave her a hearty kiss, and made the
little boy kiss her too.

At this moment out came a collie dog, hunting Ucatella by scent alone,
which process landed him headlong in the group; he gave loud barks of
recognition, fawned on Phoebe and Dick, smelt poor Christopher, gave
a growl of suspicion, and lurked about squinting, dissatisfied, and
lowering his tail.

"Thou art wrong, lad, for once," said Dick; "for he's an old friend, and
a good one."

"After the dog, perhaps some Christian will come to welcome us," said
poor Phoebe.

Obedient to the wish, out walked Sophy, the English nurse, a scraggy
woman, with a very cocked nose and thin, pinched lips, and an air of
respectability and pertness mingled. She dropped a short courtesy, shot
the glance of a basilisk at Ucatella, and said stiffly, "You are welcome
home, ma'am." Then she took the little boy as one having authority.
Not that Phoebe would have surrendered him; but just then Mr. Falcon
strolled out, with a cigar in his mouth, and Phoebe, with her heart