Now, instead of the stalwart figure of Captain Tree, the slender form of Mr. Homer Hollopeter occupied, but did not fill, the chair beneath the picture. The little gentleman sat huddled disconsolately over some papers, and it was a melancholy face that he lifted in response to Will Jaquith's cheery "How are you, Mr. Homer? pretty well this morning?" Mr. Homer sighed. "I thank you, William, I thank you!" he said. "My corporal envelope is, I am obliged to you, robust;--a--vigorous;--a--exempt for the moment from the ills that flesh is heir to--Shakespeare; we perceive that even our greatest did not disdain upon occasion to conclude a phrase with a preposition, though the practice is one generally reprehended;--a--condemned;--a--denied the sanction of the critics of our own day. I trust you find yourself in health and spirits, William?" "Capital!" said Will. "Lily and I and the boy, all as well as can be. I have brought the mail, Mr. Homer. I thought you might not feel like coming down this morning, as you were not well yesterday." As he spoke, he laid the mail-bag on the table, and, seating himself, proceeded to unlock it. Mr. Homer's eyes brightened in spite of himself; his face grew animated. "That was kind of you, William!" he said. "That was--a--considerate; that was--a--benevolent. I am greatly obliged to you; greatly obliged to you." He opened the bag with trembling fingers, and began to sort the letters it contained. "The occupation of twenty years," he continued, plaintively, "is not to be relinquished lightly. If I did not feel that I was leaving it in worthy hands, I--ah! here is a letter for Susan Jennings, from her son. There is an enclosure, William. Probably Jacob is doing better, and is sending his mother a little money. She is a worthy woman, a worthy woman; I rejoice for Susan. A dutiful son, sir, is an oasis in the desert; a--fountain in a sandy place; a--a number of gratifying things which I cannot at this moment name. You were a dutiful son, William. That must be an unspeakable satisfaction to you, now that your sainted mother has--a--departed; has--a--gone from us; has--a--ascended on wings of light to the empyrean. You were a dutiful son, sir." William Jaquith colored high. "Not always, Mr. Homer," he said. "In thinking of these late happy years, you must not forget the others that went before. I should be dead, or a castaway, this day, but for Mrs. Tree." "I rejoice at it, my dear sir!" cried Mr. Homer, his gentle eyes kindling. "That is to say--I would not wish to be understood as--but I am sure you apprehend me, William. I would say that my respect, my--a--reverence, my--a--affection and admiration for my cousin Marcia, sir, are enhanced a hundredfold by the knowledge of what she did for you. It cheers me, sir; it--a--invigorates me; it--a--causes a bud of spring to blow in a bosom which--a--was sealed, as I may say, with ice of--a--in short, with ice:--a--what is that pink envelope, William?"