“You really cannot expect anything else, and you should not blame them,” said Mrs. Templeton, the peacemaker. The commodore relieved his feelings by striking his thick cane down heavily upon the floor. “But, now that the servants are gone, uncle, for Heaven’s sake tell _us_ all about this wonderful return,” exclaimed Hermia. “Yes, pray do!” chorused all the other ladies. The old man looked at them mockingly for a space, and then said bluntly: “I WON’T! I have had excitement enough for one day, and now I am going to my room to smoke. You’ll all see Lonny and his wife at dinner. Yet stay—in this connection I would add that the young girl, Emolyn Palmer, who was our inmate a few weeks ago, is now the cherished pet of the Lady of Edengarden, in consideration of which I have sent for her to come and join us at dinner, and she will probably remain our guest as long as her benefactress is pleased to stay. Now pray ask no more questions, my dear, for I have no more explanations to make at present. Mrs. Warde, you look pale. I hope you are not indisposed.” “Thanks, no; I am as well as usual,” answered the widow in a constrained voice. “I am glad to hear it. I want every one to feel well on this happy day. Ladies, in good time you _shall_ hear ‘all about it;’ but for the present I must leave you and seek needful repose.” And so saying, with his ceremonious old bow, the commodore left the room. Mrs. Warde stepped away to hide her agitation that the news of Lonny’s return and the mention of his wife’s name had raised in her conscious soul. The other ladies remained for a few minutes, talking over the extraordinary event of the day, and then separated to go to their rooms and prepare a special toilet for the occasion. Meanwhile Commodore Bruce had sought the refuge of his library, dropped with a sigh of relief into his easy-chair, and delivered himself to repose. But his rest was of short duration. He had set too many wires in motion that day to be left long in quietness. He was soon interrupted by the entrance of Ronald with Em., just arrived from Edengarden. They both entered the room looking so innocently and frankly happy that the old man could not but receive them very cordially. “Well, Ronald, I never knew you to do an errand so quickly in all the days of my life before. I commend you, my lad,” he said in good-humored raillery of the young lover. Then, holding out his hand to Em., he smiled on her, saying: “Come hither, my child, and kiss me. Now, am I not a good-natured old muff to let that young coxcomb have you, when I am so fond of you myself?” he continued, as he put his arm around her waist and drew her to his side in a fatherly embrace. “Say, am I not very, _very_ good to the young puppy?” “You are ‘very, very good’ to _me_, sir,” said Em., raising his withered hand to her lips.