"She has not grown an inch; and is not, I believe, a day older than when we last parted! Is she, Joe?" turning to our sister. "It does not seem so," said my sister, "but I thought she would never come." "Trust her for that!" he said. "But come, now; they have had you long enough for the first visit; the rest of us want you for awhile. Come with us, Jodie. Mother, I may have them both for a little time, may I not? or will you come, too?" turning to our mother with a caressing touch. "I cannot go, dear boy; I must be here when your father returns. Take your sisters; it is a blessed sight to see you all again together." "Come then," he said; and, each taking one of my hands, we went out together. "Halt!" he suddenly called, in his old-time military fashion, after a short walk, and we stopped abruptly in front of a dainty house built of the finest polished woods. It was beautiful both in architecture and finish. "How lovely!" I cried; and with a bow of charming humility he said: "The home of your humble servant. Enter." I paused a moment on the wide veranda to examine a vine, wreathed about the graceful columns of highly-polished wood, and my brother laughingly said to my sister: "She is the same old Sis! We will not get much good out of her until she has learned the name of every flower, vine and plant in heaven." "Yes, you will," I said, shaking my head at his happy face, "but I mean to utilize you whenever I can; I have so much to learn." "So you shall, dear," he answered gently. "But come in." Stepping inside a lovely vestibule, out of which opened, from every side, spacious rooms, he called softly "Alma!" At once from one of these, a fair woman approached us. "My dear child!" I said, "it does not seem possible! You were but a child when I last saw you." "She is still her father's girl," said my brother, with a fond look. "She and Carrie, whom you never saw, make a blessed home for me. Where is your sister, daughter?" "She is at the great music-hall. She has a very rich voice that she is cultivating," Alma said, turning to me. "We were going to find our aunt when she returned," she added. "True, true," said my brother; "but come." Then they showed me the lovely home, perfect and charming in every detail. When we came out upon a side veranda, I saw we were so near an adjoining house that we could easily step from one veranda to the other. "There!" said my brother, lightly lifting me over the intervening space. "There is some one here you will wish to see." Before I could question him, he led me through the columned doorway, saying, "People in heaven are never 'not at home' to their friends." The house we entered was almost identical in construction and finish with that of my brother Nell, and, as we entered, three persons came eagerly forward to greet me. "Dear Aunt Gray!" I cried. "My dear Mary--my dear Martin! What a joy to meet you again!" "And here," said my aunt reverently.