“Oh! the darling of darlings! the angel of angels! Oh, please, dear minister, write for me directly, for I never can hold a pen in the hand that is trembling for joy and blessedness and gratitude, and tell him to come immediately. But, no! I will go to him! Where is he? I’ll get the Red Fox carryall and start for the station immediately. Truly, where shall I go? Tell me, minister, dear! Look at the letter! Where is it dated from?” she eagerly demanded. “You will not have far to go. He is in this village,” said Mr. Campbell, smiling. “In this village! Oh! then he is at the Red Fox! Let me get my bonnet and cloak!” she cried, rising to her feet. “He is nearer to you than that,” said the minister. Then he drew the woman’s arm within his own and led her into the study. “Mother!” exclaimed Longman, starting up and striding toward her with outstretched arms. “Oh, my darling! my darling!” cried Elspeth, and she fell fainting on his bosom. So much for the careful breaking of the news. But she did not swoon to unconsciousness. She almost immediately recovered. Then Longman seated her in the large armchair, and placed himself on the hassock at her feet. She put her arms over his shaggy head and smiled through her tears. “Come!” said Hetty, laughing. “You and I are _de trop_ in a room with such a pair of lovers as these!” And she slipped her hand through her husband’s arm and dragged him from the room without the reunited pair—so absorbed in their meeting—seeing them go. CHAPTER XVI THE SQUIRE’S ARRIVAL Hetty drew her husband back into the cozy parlor, where they found Jennie waiting alone. “Well, I have put the baby to sleep at last! Little witch! she wanted to laugh and crow and kick all night. Such a time as I had getting her quiet! But where have you two been? You look—just as if you had come from a circus!” said Jennie. “So we have! or rather from a domestic drama!” exclaimed Hetty, laughing; and then she told her daughter all about the sudden return of Samson Longman, and the joy of his mother. Jennie listened in sympathetic delight. “And now, my dear, you may come in the kitchen and help me to bring in the tea. Elspeth has forgotten that there is any such thing as tea in the world. And who can blame her!” exclaimed Hetty as she left the room attended by her daughter. It was, indeed, nearly an hour beyond their usual tea time. The tea was drawn too much, and the muffins were baked too dry; nevertheless, father, mother, and daughter enjoyed the refreshment. There was a good-sized dining-room in the rear of the house on the other side of the hall, but for reasons of economy it was not used in cold weather, as it would require another fire, the meals being served in the family sitting-room or parlor. Now, however, as soon as the curate and his family arose from the tea, his wife said: