'Oh, it is true, though. Human nature is human nature all the world over. But, there, I am teasing you with all this rigmarole; only I seem somehow confused, and as though I could not rightly arrange my thoughts. When did Mat come home? Well, it was three nights ago, and--would you believe it, Miss Ross?--it feels more like three weeks.' 'I wish you had written to me. I would have come to you before.' 'Ay, that was what Prissy said; she was always bidding me take ink and paper. "There's Miss Ross ought to be told, father"--she was always dinning it into my ears; but somehow I could not bring myself to write. "Where's the hurry," I said to Prissy, "when Mat is a fixture here? I would rather tell Miss Ross myself." And I have had my way, too'--with a touch of his old humour--'and here we are, talking comfortably as we have been used to do; and that is better than a stack of letters.' Audrey smiled. Whatever her private opinion might be, she certainly offered no contradiction. If she had been in his place, all her world should have heard of her prodigal's return, and should have been bidden to eat of the fatted calf; she would have called her friends and neighbours to rejoice with her over the lost one who had found his way home. Her friend's reticence secretly alarmed her. Would Vineyard Cottage be a happier place for its new inmate? 'Yes, it is better for you and me to be talking over it quietly,' he went on; 'and I am glad Mat took that restless turn an hour ago. You see, the place is small, and he has been used to bush-life; and after he has sat a bit and smoked one or two pipes, he must just go out and dig in the garden, or take his mile or two just to stretch his muscles; but he will be back by the time Prissy has got the tea.' 'And he came back three nights ago?' observed Audrey. 'Ay. We were going upstairs, Prissy and I; the girl had been in bed for an hour. I was just smoking my last pipe over the kitchen fire, as I like to do, when we heard a knock at the door, and Prissy says to me: '"I expect that is Joshua Ruddock, father, and Jane has been taken bad, and they cannot get the nurse in time." For Prissy is a good soul at helping any of her neighbours, and sometimes one or other of them will send for her to sit up with a sick wife or child. And then she goes to the door, while I knock the ashes out of my pipe. But the next moment she gave a sort of screech, and I made up my mind that it was that rascal Joe asking for a night's lodging--not that he would ever have slept under my roof again. I confess I swore to myself a bit softly when I heard Prissy fly out like that. '"Father," she says again, "here is a vagrant sort of man, and he says he is Uncle Mat." '"And she won't believe me, Tom; so you had better come and look at me yourself;" and, sure enough, I knew the lad's voice before I got a sight of his face.