“Well, I will leave you here,” she said. “I want to get back before dark: and I have a cottage-friend to visit, first. Good night, dear friend! Let us see you soon—and often!” she added, with an affectionate warmth that went to my very heart. “_For those are few we hold as dear!_” “Good night!” I answered. “Tennyson said that of a worthier friend than me.” “Tennyson didn’t know what he was talking about!” she saucily rejoined, with a touch of her old childish gaiety; and we parted. CHAPTER XX. GAMMON AND SPINACH. My landlady’s welcome had an extra heartiness about it: and though, with a rare delicacy of feeling, she made no direct allusion to the friend whose companionship had done so much to brighten life for me, I felt sure that it was a kindly sympathy with my solitary state that made her so specially anxious to do all she could think of to ensure my comfort, and make me feel at home. The lonely evening seemed long and tedious: yet I lingered on, watching the dying fire, and letting Fancy mould the red embers into the forms and faces belonging to bygone scenes. Now it seemed to be Bruno’s roguish smile that sparkled for a moment, and died away: now it was Sylvie’s rosy cheek: and now the Professor’s jolly round face, beaming with delight. “You’re welcome, my little ones!” he seemed to say. And then the red coal, which for the moment embodied the dear old Professor, began to wax dim, and with its dying lustre the words seemed to die away into silence. I seized the poker, and with an artful touch or two revived the waning glow, while Fancy—no coy minstrel she—sang me once again the magic strain I loved to hear. “You’re welcome, little ones!” the cheery voice repeated. “I told them you were coming. Your rooms are all ready for you. And the Emperor and the Empress—well, I think they’re rather pleased than otherwise! In fact, Her Highness said ‘I hope they’ll be in time for the Banquet!’ Those were her very words, I assure you!” “Will Uggug be at the Banquet?” Bruno asked. And both children looked uneasy at the dismal suggestion. “Why, of course he will!” chuckled the Professor. “Why, it’s his _birthday_, don’t you know? And his health will be drunk, and all that sort of thing. What would the Banquet be without _him_?” “Ever so much nicer,” said Bruno. But he said it in a _very_ low voice, and nobody but Sylvie heard him. The Professor chuckled again. “It’ll be a jolly Banquet, now _you’ve_ come, my little man! I _am_ so glad to see you again!” “I ’fraid we’ve been very long in coming,” Bruno politely remarked.