"There's nothing like a trip to the Indies for making a man appreciate the comforts of his own home," he exclaimed. "How cheery it all looks; and a man must be a fool who couldn't enjoy himself at home after tossing about in a hurricane off Gibraltar for a week at a stretch. But where's your mistress?" cried Joe Duncombe, suddenly, turning to the astonished Susan. "Where's Mrs. Jernam?--where's my daughter? Doesn't she hear her old father's gruff voice? Isn't she coming to bid me welcome after all I've gone through to earn more money for her?" Before Susan could answer, Mrs. Mugby had heard the voice of her master, and came hurrying in to greet him. "Thank you for your hearty welcome," said the captain, hurriedly; "but where's my daughter? Is she out of doors this cold winter day, gadding about London streets?--or how the deuce is it she doesn't come to give her old father a kiss, and bid him welcome home?" "Lor', sir," cried Mrs. Mugby, "you don't mean to say as you haven't heard from Miss Rosa--begging your pardon, Mrs. Jernam--but the other do come so much more natural?" "Heard from her!" exclaimed the captain. "Not I, I haven't had a line from her. But heaven have mercy on us! how the woman does stare! There isn't anything wrong with my daughter, is there? She's well--eh?" The captain's honest face grew pale, as a sudden fear arose in his mind. "Don't tell me my daughter is ill," he gasped; "or worse--" "No, no, no, captain," cried Mrs. Mugby. "I heard from Mrs. Jernam only a week ago, and she was quite well; but she is residing down in Devonshire, where she removed with her husband last July; and I made sure you would have received a letter telling you of the change." "What!" roared Joseph Duncombe; "did my daughter go and turn her back upon the comfortable little box her father built for her--the place he spent his hard-won earnings upon for her sake? So Rosy got tired of the cottage, did she? It wasn't good enough for her, I suppose. Well, well, that does seem rather hard somehow--it does seem hard." The captain dropped heavily down into the chair nearest him. He was deeply wounded by the idea that his daughter had deserted the home which he had made for her. "Begging your pardon, sir," interposed Mrs. Mugby, in her most insinuating tone, "which I am well aware it's not my place to interfere in family matters; but knowing as devotion itself is a word not strong enough to express Mrs. Jernam's feelings for her pa, I cannot stand by and see her misunderstood by that very pa. It was no doings of hers as she left River View, Captain Buncombe, for the place was very dear to her; but Captain Jernam, he took it into his head all of a sudden he'd set off for foreign parts in his ship the 'Albert's horse'; and before he went, he insisted on taking Mrs. Jernam down to Devonshire, which burying her alive would be too mild a word for such cruelty, I think."