But who was that, also, on her knees, insisting on having his hand to cover it with kisses, sobbing and laughing, with tears and joy in eyes and voice? ’Oh, rallaluley. The maister be come back from that whist place!’ Yes—Joyce. The true, devoted Joyce, who had only stayed an hour at Coombow with Mrs. Facey, and then had walked on, all night, and had come in—nay, burst in, on the Battishills in the morning, with the tidings that the master was on his way back to West Wyke. Over the chimney-piece, about the pictures, wherever it could be stuck, was bright holly with red berries. And see! hanging from the black beam, a bunch of mistletoe. Herring’s heart was full. He could not speak, but he took Cicely’s head between his hands and kissed her; he stooped and lifted Joyce and pressed his lips to her cheek; and the old Squire’s arm encircled him, and drew the young head down beside the old grey one. The tongues of all failed. Herring raised his eyes, over which a mist was forming, and saw above the doorway an inscription in red holly berries— Welcome Home. By degrees only did the flush and fever of joy in these good simple souls subside, and Herring was able to recover his composure. Then the young man stood by the Squire’s chair and looked at him. His heart reproached him for having deserted him for so long a time. ’We hoped you would have dropped in and eaten your Christmas dinner with us, John,’ said Mr. Battishill. ’We set your chair at the table, and a sprig of holly by your plate, in hopes you would arrive.’ ’I am very sorry, sir, that I was not here. I should have been far happier here among such dear, kind friends.’ ’It is you, John, who have been a kind friend to us,’ said the old man. ’Just consider. If you had not rescued the mortgages out of Tramplara’s hands when you did, they would have fallen to the creditors, the directors of Ophir, and we should have been turned into the cold.’ ’You repay what little I have done for you a thousand fold,’ answered Herring. There was a flush on the old man’s cheek, caused by excitement. ’Now we have you here again,’ he said, ’you must remain with us, at all events, for some time. Consider this as your home.’ ’Yes,’ answered Herring, ’I have no home elsewhere.’ He spoke sadly. Cicely looked hard at him. He went on, ’I will stay on with you till I tire you out with my society.’ ’That can never be. There is Upaver crying out for you; I am past attending to that. I am not what I was a few months ago. The wheels are becoming rusty and the gear breaks.’ Cicely looked from her father to Herring questioningly. Did John note the change in the old man? A change there was; he was failing in many ways. Just now the delight of seeing Herring again had revived him, nevertheless the change was observable enough. The eager look had gone out of the eyes, and the lips had become more tremulous than ever.