Blackpool was a decided improvement to the farm, but the wet weather followed them even there, so, at the end of a very dull fortnight, they turned their faces homewards. It was quite delightful to see dear old smoky London once more. Adeline lost no time in going to see her family, and went the same afternoon that they returned. Mike was obliged to go straight off to business, but she was not sorry to have to go alone. Her visit was quite a surprise, for they were not expected home for at least another week. Mr. and Mrs. Friedberg were out, she was told, but the girls were at home, and received her with rapturous exclamations of delight and astonishment. They carried her off to her old bedroom to take off her things, and plied her with questions which she could not possibly answer all at once. She hugged them all round, Prince, the pug, included; then she sat down on the bed, and indulged in a good cry, after which she felt considerably better. The girls were filled with consternation. They had never seen Adeline cry before. Had Mike been doing anything to vex her? No? Then, what on earth was she crying for? Di ran for smelling-salts, and Lottie fetched brandy; in vain Adeline protested that she needed neither. “You must think me a little fool, girls,” she sobbed, copiously drying her tears. “It was the excitement of seeing you again, I suppose. I shall feel much better when I have had some tea.” She made them promise not to tell her parents what a silly girl she was; and then brightened up, and told them of all she had seen and done. By the time Mr. and Mrs. Friedberg arrived, she was all smiles again, and they were delighted to see her looking so well. “Married life agrees with you, evidently,” her mother remarked, as she gave her a prolonged and audible kiss on either cheek. “You are looking splendid, Addie. Mr. Cohen’s nephew--not the one who married Sol Benjamin’s niece, but the other one--saw you on the pier at Blackpool, and said that you and Mike were so taken up with lovemaking, that you never even acknowledged his existence.” “It was very windy on the pier,” said Adeline apologetically. “It was all I could do to keep my hat on. I did not notice any one who was passing.” “No, of course not,” put in Mr. Friedberg, with a wink. “No one would expect you to. By-the-by, what do you think of your house, Addie? It’s ’ansome, isn’t it? That’s the best of having a husband in the furnishing line. Mike let me have everything at cost price. When these girls get _chosanim_,”[1] with a sly look at his other daughters, “they shall set up housekeeping in grand style too.” Was she never going to get away from that wretched furniture? Adeline was sick of the very word.