f you," resumed the lady, "to pay us this compliment.
How very anxious they must be to see you."

"And I am equally anxious to see them," he replied; "but I could not
pass without seeing you--just for a few minutes." Then turning to
Mattie, he exchanged kisses with her, kissed her good-night, to the
great distress of her mother, who was compelled to look on. He also
promised to call early in the morning, spend most of the day, and give
an account of his voyage.

A minute more and he was seated in a wagon beside Bright, and proceeding
over the road toward Hanz's little house.

When he was gone, and the Chapmans had retired to their room, "Ma," said
Mattie, her face coloring with feeling, "it was very unkind, even cruel
of you to treat the young gentleman so coldly."

"Done to balance the familiarity, my daughter--the familiarity! Needed
something to balance that," interrupted the lady, bowing her head
formally. "Young man looks respectable enough. He may have come home and
not a sixpence in his pocket--who knows? In these matters, my daughter,
it's always best to know where the line is drawn before building your
house."

"He might have come home penniless; it would not have made a bit of
difference to me, mother, I would love him just as much," replied
Mattie. "But I can forgive you, ma, for I know you did not mean what you
said." And she kissed her mother, and retired for the night, the
happiest woman in all Nyack.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

HE BRINGS JOY INTO THE HOUSE.

All was silent and dark in the little house where Hanz Toodleburg lived,
when the wagon containing Tite and the inn-keeper drew up at the gate. A
dull, dreamy stillness seemed to hang over the place, and the little,
old house was in the full enjoyment of a deep sleep. The two men
alighted, and Tite stood for a few minutes viewing the scene around him.
How strange and yet how familiar everything seemed. He was at the
opposite side of the world only a few months ago, and time had sped on
so swiftly that it seemed as if he had gone to bed at night on one side
of the globe, and waked up in the morning at the other. Then he was on
an island almost unknown to the rest of the world, surrounded by scenes
so wild, so strange and romantic, that the reader would not believe them
real.

Here now was the old lattice gate, the vine-covered arbor leading
through the garden to the cracked and blistered-faced front door, the
stack of hop-vines in the garden-c