such fallows as these,"
said he. "The lessees from his Lordship were sportsmen rather than
husbandmen, and had an antipathy to a constable or a sheriff like a
rat to a boar cat. That is the curse of some of your Eastern Shore
gentlemen, especially in Dorchester," he added; "they get to be
fishmongers."

Presently we came in sight of the house, long and low, like the one in
Gloucester Street, with a new and unpainted wing just completed. That
day the mist softened its outline and blurred the trees which clustered
about it. Even as we swung into the circle of the drive a rounded and
youthful figure appeared in the doorway, gave a little cry, and stood
immovable. It was Patty, in a striped dimity gown with the sleeves
rolled up, and her face fairly shone with joy as I leaped from my horse
and took her hands.

"So you like my surprise, girl?" said her father, as he kissed her
blushing face.

For answer she tore herself away, and ran through the hall to the broad
porch in front.

"Our barrister is come, mother," we heard her exclaiming, "and whom do
you think he has brought?"

"Is it Richard?" asked the gentler voice, more hastily than usual.

I stepped out on the porch, where the invalid sat in her armchair. She
was smiling with joy, too, and she held out her wasted hands and drew me
toward her, kissing me on both cheeks.

"I thank God for His goodness," said she.

"And the boy has come to stay, mother," said her husband, as he stooped
over her.

"To stay!" cries Patty.

"Gordon's Pride is henceforth his home," replied the barrister. "And now
I can return in peace to my musty law, and know that my plantation will
be well looked after."

Patty gasped.

"Oh, I am so glad!" said she, "I could almost rejoice that his uncle
cheated him out of his property. He is to be factor of Gordon's Pride?"

"He is to be master of Gordon's Pride, my dear," says her father, smiling
and tilting her chin; "we shall have no such persons as factors here."

At that the tears forced themselves into my own eyes. I turned away, and
then I perceived for the first time the tall form of my old friend, Percy
Singleton.

"May I, too, bid you welcome, Richard," said he, in his manly way; "and
rejoice that I have got such a neighbour?"

"Thank you, Percy," I answered. I was not in a state to say much more.

"And now," exclaims Patty, "what a dinner we shall have in the prodigal's
honour! I shall make you all some of the Naples biscui