"But you will be with us almost as much," replied Mrs. Danforth. "I have your mother's permission, and will go myself to speak with Madame. You will run over every day to your lessons, but you will live here; we can not lose our pet so soon." "You are very kind--oh, so kind," Sarah said, quite radiant at the thought of not being confined any longer in the dark old school-building. "It is you who are good to us. But come, we will go over now; I must tell Madame Monot at once." The explanations were duly made, and Sarah returned to her old routine of lessons; but her study-room was now the garden, or any place in Mr. Danforth's house that she fancied. The old gentleman was better again; able to be wheeled out of doors into the sunshine; and there was nothing he liked so much as sitting in the garden, his wife knitting by his side, Sarah studying at his feet, and the robins singing in the pear-trees overhead, as if feeling it a sacred duty to pay their rent by morning advances of melody. CHAPTER XI. A welcome to the homestead-- The gables and the trees; And welcome to the true hearts, As the sunshine and the breeze. One bright morning, several weeks after Mr. Danforth's attack, the three were seated in their favorite nook in the garden. It was a holiday with Sarah; there were no lessons to study; no exercises to practice; no duty more irksome than that of reading the newspaper aloud to the old gentleman, who particularly fancied her fresh, happy voice. Mrs. Danforth was occupied with her knitting, and Sarah sat at their feet upon a low stool, looking so much like a favorite young relative that it was no wonder if the old pair forgot that she was unconnected with them save by the bonds of affection, and regarded her as being, in reality, as much a part of their family as they considered her in their hearts. While they sat there, some sudden noise attracted Mrs. Danforth's attention; she rose and went into the house so quietly that the others scarcely noticed her departure. It was not long before she came out again, walking very hastily for her, and with such a tremulous flutter in her manner, that Sarah regarded her in surprise. "William!" she said to her husband, "William!" He roused himself from the partial doze into which he had fallen, and looked up. "Did you speak to me?" he asked. "I have good news for you. Don't be agitated--it is all pleasant." He struggled up from his seat, steadying his trembling hands upon his staff. "My boy has come!" he exclaimed louder and more clearly than he had spoken for weeks; "William, my boy!" At the summons, a young man came out of the house and ran toward them. The old gentleman flung his arms about his neck and strained him close to his heart. "My boy!" was all he could say; "my William!" When they had all grown somewhat calmer, Mrs. Danforth called Sarah, who was standing at a little distance.