"I don't care much about photographs," said Garnett. "All very well for the young folks, I dare say, but _I_ sha'n't make a pretty picture on this side of doomsday!" And indeed it did not seem likely that he would. So he departed, grinning, to say to the next man he met, "What do you think I've been doing? Laughing about Blake's patent corn-flour to old Thorne: forgot the composite candles--did, upon my word! Said 'Gentlemen used to be more particular in _our_ young days,' and the minute it was out of my mouth I remembered Jim and the candles. Fine girl she was, certainly. Poor old Thorne! he was terribly cut up at the time. It was grand to see the two old fellows meet--as good as a play. Thorne held out just the tips of his fingers: I believe he thought if he shook hands with old Benham he should smell of tallow for ever. Ever see Benham's monument? They ordered it down from town--man knew nothing of course: how should he? So he went and put some angels weeping, and an inverted torch, just like a bundle of candles. Fact, by Jove! I went to have a look at it myself one day. Some of the Benhams were very sore about it. Dear! dear! I shouldn't think the old fellow could ever have a quiet night there with that over him. Only, as he was covered up snugly first, perhaps he doesn't know;" and Garnett, chuckling to himself at the idea, marched off to have a look at the prize pig. Meanwhile, the young Thornes had arrived, and came strolling around the field--a noticeable pair enough, tall, handsome and well dressed, walking side by side in all faith and friendliness, as they were not often to walk again. When people talked of them afterward a good many remembered how they looked on that day. Apparently, Horace had resolved to throw off his trouble of the night before, and had succeeded. There was something almost defiant in the very brightness of his aspect, and the heat had flushed him a little, so that no one would have echoed Sissy's exclamation of "You don't look well." On the contrary, he was congratulated on his looks by many of his old friends, and seemed full of life and energy. Turning the corner of one of the tents, the two came suddenly on the Blakes. There was not one of the four who was utterly unconcerned at that meeting, though the interests and motives which produced the little thrill of excitement were curiously mingled and opposed. Two pairs of eyes flashed bright signals of mutual understanding: the others made no sign of what might be hidden in their depths. Delicately-gloved hands were held out, Mrs. Blake came forward fluent and friendly, and the two groups melted into one. Horace and Addie led the way round the tent. Percival followed with Lottie and her mother, feeling that he had never rightly appreciated the latter's conversational powers before. When they emerged into the sunlight again, they encountered Mrs. Pickering and her girls, and in the talk that ensued our hero found himself standing by Addie.