d calf; she would have called her friends and
neighbours to rejoice with her over the lost one who had found his way
home. Her friend's reticence secretly alarmed her. Would Vineyard
Cottage be a happier place for its new inmate?

'Yes, it is better for you and me to be talking over it quietly,' he
went on; 'and I am glad Mat took that restless turn an hour ago. You
see, the place is small, and he has been used to bush-life; and after he
has sat a bit and smoked one or two pipes, he must just go out and dig
in the garden, or take his mile or two just to stretch his muscles; but
he will be back by the time Prissy has got the tea.'

'And he came back three nights ago?' observed Audrey.

'Ay. We were going upstairs, Prissy and I; the girl had been in bed for
an hour. I was just smoking my last pipe over the kitchen fire, as I
like to do, when we heard a knock at the door, and Prissy says to me:

'"I expect that is Joshua Ruddock, father, and Jane has been taken bad,
and they cannot get the nurse in time." For Prissy is a good soul at
helping any of her neighbours, and sometimes one or other of them will
send for her to sit up with a sick wife or child. And then she goes to
the door, while I knock the ashes out of my pipe. But the next moment
she gave a sort of screech, and I made up my mind that it was that
rascal Joe asking for a night's lodging--not that he would ever have
slept under my roof again. I confess I swore to myself a bit softly when
I heard Prissy fly out like that.

'"Father," she says again, "here is a vagrant sort of man, and he says
he is Uncle Mat."

'"And she won't believe me, Tom; so you had better come and look at me
yourself;" and, sure enough, I knew the lad's voice before I got a sight
of his face.

'I give you my word, Miss Ross,' he continued, somewhat huskily, 'I
hardly know how I got to the door, for my limbs seemed to have no power.

'"Do you think I don't know your voice, lad?" I said; and, though it was
dark, I got hold of him and pulled him into the light.

'We were both of us white and shaking as we stood there, but he looked
me in the face with a pitiful sort of smile.

'"I could not stand it any longer, Tom," he said; "I suppose it was
home-sickness; but it would have killed me in time. I have not got a
creature in the world belonging to me. Will you and Susan take me in?"
And then, with a laugh, though there were tears in his eyes: "I am
precious tired of the husks, old chap.