of the party ventured to smile--as was their wont in happier
circumstances--at the philosophy of their comrade's remark. They
wandered on in silence till they reached--they scarce knew how or why--
the centre plaza of the town.

"It's of no use giving way to it," said Ned Sinton, at last, making a
mighty effort to recover: "we must face our reverses like men; and,
after all, it might have been worse. We might have lost our lives as
well as our gold, so we ought to be thankful instead of depressed."

"What shall we do now?" inquired Captain Bunting, in a tone that proved
sufficiently that he at least could not benefit by Ned's advice.

"Sure we'll have to go an' work, capting," replied Larry, in a tone of
facetious desperation; "but first of all we'll have to go an' see Mr
Thompson, and git dry clo'se for Nelly, poor thing--are ye cowld,
darlin'?"

"No, not in the least," answered the child, sadly. "I think my things
will dry soon, if we walk in the sun."

Nelly's voice seemed to rouse the energies of the party more effectually
than Ned's moralising.

"Yes," cried the latter, "let us away to old Thompson's. His daughter,
Lizette, will put you all to rights, dear, in a short time. Come
along."

So saying, Ned led the way, and the whole party speedily stood at the
door of Mr Thompson's cottage.

The door was merely fastened by a latch, and as no notice was taken of
their first knock, Ned lifted it and entered the hall, then advancing to
the parlour door, he opened it and looked in.

The sight that met his gaze was well calculated to make him open his
eyes, and his mouth too, if that would in any way have relieved his
feelings.

Seated in old Mr Thompson's easy-chair, with one leg stretched upon an
ottoman, and the other reposing on a stool, reclined Tom Collins,
looking, perhaps, a little paler than was his wont, as if still
suffering from the effects of recent illness, but evidently quite happy
and comfortable.

Beside Tom, on another stool, with her arm resting on Tom's knee, and
looking up in his face with a quiet smile, sat Elizabeth Thompson.

"Tom! Miss Thompson!" cried Ned Sinton, standing absolutely aghast.

Miss Thompson sprang up with a face of crimson, but Tom sat coolly
still, and said, while a broad grin overspread his handsome countenance,
"No, Ned, not Miss Thompson--Mrs _Collins_, who, I know, is rejoiced to
see you."

"You are jesting, Tom," said Ned, as he advanced quickly, and to