reaming tears; and there
was a trembling tone in his father's 'Well, Charlie boy, how have you
got on without us?'

They sat down, Charles with his sister beside him, and holding a hand
steadier than his own, but hot and feverish to the touch. He leant
forward to look at her face, and, as if in answer, she turned it on
him. It was the old face, paler and thinner, and the eyelids had a
hard reddened look, from want of sleep: but Charles, like his mother
at first, was almost awed by the melancholy serenity of the expression.
'Have you been quite well?' she asked, in a voice which sounded
strangely familiar, in its fond, low tones.

'Yes, quite.'

There was a pause, followed by an interchange of question and answer
between the others, on the journey, and on various little home
circumstances. Presently Mrs. Edmonstone said Amy had better come
up-stairs.

'I have not seen Bustle,' said Amy, looking at Charlotte.

'He is in my room,' faltered Charlotte.

'I should like to see him.'

Charlotte hastened away, glad to wipe her tears when outside the door.
Poor Bustle had been watching for his master ever since his departure,
and hearing the sounds of arrival, was wild to escape from his prison.
He rushed out the moment the door was open, and was scratching to be let
into the drawing-room before Charlotte could come up with him. He dashed
in, laid his head on Amabel's knee, and wagged his tail for welcome;
gave the same greeting to Mr. and Mrs. Edmonstone, but only for a
moment, for he ran restlessly seeking round the room, came to the door,
and by his wistful looks made Charlotte let him out. She followed
him, and dropping on her knees as soon as she was outside, pressed her
forehead to his glossy black head, whispered that it was of no use, he
would never come back. The dog burst from her, and the next moment was
smelling and wagging his tail at a portmanteau, which he knew as well as
she did, and she could hardly refrain from a great outburst of sobbing
as she thought what joy its arrival had hitherto been.

Suddenly Bustle bounded away, and as Charlotte stood trying to compose
herself enough to return to the drawing-room, she heard the poor fellow
whining to be let in at Guy's bed-room door. At the same time the
drawing-room door opened, and anxious that Amy should neither see nor
hear him, she ran after him, admitted him, and shut herself in with him
in the dark, where, with her hands in his long silky curls, and s