The mother then spoke. “Are you the Mr. Japhet who was in the St. George’s School in 18—.” “Yes,” I replied. “I must be the one as I know of no other. The Japhets by that name are very scarce, as I never met one in my life.” “Well!” she replied. “Johnny has always been talking of you and of coming to see Mr. Japhet, and I thought I would come with him.” This was what she said, but she had scarcely uttered the name, “Johnny,” before I aroused from my stupor, sprang from my chair and taking both his hands in mine, exclaimed, “Johnny, is it you?” I put my arms around him and gave him a real brotherly hug, and would have kissed him after the good German fashion, but let my tears of joy flow instead. Taking his hands again I studied his features, asking: “Is it really true that you are Johnny?” Then turning to the widow, “Mrs. Clement, I wish to shake your hand again for Johnny’s sake.” I saw the tears glistening in her eyes as she observed us, for was not he the only son of the widow, the treasure of the mother’s heart and life! Had she not a right to be proud of him and of the love I showed him? Why should we not give full play to our sympathies and feelings, the noblest traits of our human nature? Have we not enough in life to make us hard and unfeeling that we should not soften our natures by yielding to our affections when we can do this sincerely? I have seen husbands and wives, parents and children meet and separate as coldly as if they were only strangers or ashamed to show any feeling. How very strange, and is it not unnatural? Surely I did not take time just then to philosophize for I was too excited even to think. Recovering myself, I ordered the bearer to tell the Khansaman to bring some tea and toast, to open the two guest rooms, to bring in the luggage and dismiss the gari, and all this in one sentence and a breath. I was in a state of delightful excitement and I yielded myself entirely to it, and why not? No more of Plato’s New or Old Republic, but the pleasure of the old and new friendship. I have often recalled Mr. Percy’s saying, “Charles don’t dawdle! When you have anything to do, either work or play, give to it all your might, mind and being.” I need not say we were busy, not a moment wasted either before or at breakfast. I insisted on the midday rest, that my friends might not become exhausted, but Johnny found me in the library. I call him Johnny for he was always that to me, and ever will be and why not? Later in the afternoon we had our walk in the garden, and then our long drive about the station, but I doubt if either of us saw anything. The pleasant time was after dinner, when we had our coffee in front of the fire in the big room. It reminded me of the old times when we three, Mr. Percy, Cockear and I, sat before our fire and were like boys together. Ah! those happy, joyous days! How much has passed since then?