eet her, followed
by all the rest of the boys, leaping, shouting, and laughing, forgetting
all preconcerted speeches, and much too happy to be even coherent.

'Papa' was afraid such noisy glee would be too much for the invalid, but
'mamma' would have her way for once, and indulge the boys to the top of
their bent; so they led the way into the desert, all laughing and
talking at the same time, till Willie bethought himself that the noise
and excitement would really be too much for his mother, and first loudly
exhorted his brothers to be quiet, and then--which was much
better--became quiet himself, and thus set an example of
considerateness.

Mrs. Campbell's surprise and delight were great enough to satisfy her
sons, which is saying a good deal. She would not sit down till she had
made the tour of the garden (it would be an insult to say 'desert' any
longer); and she accepted a sprig of Johnnie's geranium, and a handful
of Duncan's sweet-peas; _tasted_ one of Archie's nasturtium flowers when
assured by him that it was 'so nice;' was duly edified by the sight of
the remains of the tooth-brush, worn to a stump by Georgie's sedulous
and novel use of it; allowed Honorius to pull up a potato root, that she
might see how healthy and free from disease it was; submitted patiently
to have her hair ornamented with some of Seymour's convolvuluses; and
only declined to taste the one hard green apple born by Geroldinga
(Gozmaringa, Crevedella, and Spirauca were as yet fruitless), from a
fear that the tender, careful guardian at her side would be
irrecoverably shocked at such imprudence. She sat down at last on the
chair of state that had been prepared for her, and owned herself a
little tired; but her interest and amusement never flagged, and she
listened with eager pleasure to the history of her sons' exertions.

'They've all worked like horses,--even Georgie, I do believe,' said Dr.
Campbell, smiling.

'And Johnnie too!' said the mother delightedly.

'Yes, Johnnie has done his work manfully, and has found out that
industry is pleasure, after all. Haven't you, my boy?' and the father
laid his hand on his son's shoulder with a proud, pleased look, such as
Lackland had but seldom called up before.

The bright eyes, which never looked down in fear, looked down now.
Jean-sans-terre was not so unsensitive to _praise_ as he was to
_blame_.

'Ah, papa,' said Willie, 'you laughed at us when we began to dig up the
desert, but now you