They lingered near her, they hung upon her words and looks, and when the time for parting came, clung about her with sobs and tears, loading her with caresses, till she was forced to tear herself from their embraces and hurry away. The stage had drawn up before the gate; she hastened down the garden path, the weeping children running after; Mr. Keith and Mr. Mocker assisted her into the vehicle, the latter took his place by her side, and in another moment she was whirled away out of sight, all drowned in tears, and leaving the others in like condition. "It seems just like a funeral!" sobbed Ada, "oh, will she never, never come back any more!" "Perhaps she may, dear," said the mother, wiping away her own tears, "we will try to think so at least, and be cheerful and happy in looking forward to that time. And in the meanwhile we may hope for a letter now and then." "Oh," cried Rupert, "that reminds me that there's a letter in the office for you now, mother! I saw it there, but had no money with me to pay the postage. If you'll give me the two shillings, I'll run and get it now." "Do so, my son," Mrs. Keith said, giving him the money. "I'm sorry you forgot it and did not get it out in time for Aunt Wealthy to see it." Letters were rarities in those days, and the older members of the family awaited Rupert's return from the post-office with a good deal of eagerness, not unmixed with anxiety. He was not long gone for he too was curious in regard to it, desirous to learn its contents and who was the writer. "It's post marked Detroit," he said, delivering it to his mother. "I can't think who'd be likely to write to any of us from there. "Unless it might be Captain or Edward Wells," he added with a quizzical glance at Mildred. "The hand looks familiar," remarked Mrs. Keith carefully breaking the seal; then opening out the sheet, "Horace Dinsmore!" she exclaimed, "And he is coming to see us! Oh, what a pity that Aunt Wealthy has just missed him!" "A pity indeed!" echoed her husband. "But he may stay with us some weeks, and perhaps take Lansdale on his way home." "I hope he won't; won't stay here long, I mean," muttered Rupert in an aside to Mildred. "I didn't like him the other time." "Nor I, very much, but perhaps he has improved." "Mother, who is he?" the younger ones were asking. "My cousin; his mother and mine were sisters." "Were? Aren't they now?" queried Zillah. "Yes, dear, but they both went home to heaven many years ago. My mother first--before Aunt Eva married Mr. Dinsmore and went away down south to live. "But wait till I have read the letter and then you may ask all the questions you wish." It was not a lengthy epistle. Mrs. Keith glanced over it, then read it aloud. Its tone was cousinly and affectionate.