"Now, look here," said Simon Verstage, interrupting the singer, "We all of us know that there ballet, pretty well. It's vastly long, if I remembers aright, something like fourteen verses; and I think we can do very well wi'out it to-night. I fancy your brother-inlaw, Thomas, mightn't relish it." "He's not here," said the Broom-Squire. "But I am here," said the landlord, "and I say that the piece is too long for singing, 'twill make you too hoarse to say purty speeches and soft things to your new missus, and it's a bit stale for our ears." "It's an ill bird that befouls its own nest," said a young fellow present. Bideabout overheard the remark. "What do you mean by that? Was that aimed at me?" he shouted and started to his feet. A brawl would have inevitably ensued, but for a timely interruption. In the door stood a well-dressed, good-looking young man, surveying the assembled company with a smile. Silence ensued. Bideabout looked round. Then, with a cry of joy, mingled with pain, Mrs. Verstage started from her feet. "It is Iver! my Iver!" In another moment mother and son were locked in each other's arms. The guests rose and looked questioningly at their host, before they welcomed the intruder. Simon Verstage remained seated, with his glass in his hand, gazing sternly into it. His face became mottled, red spots appeared on the temples, and on the cheekbones; elsewhere he was pale. Mehetabel went to him, placed her hand upon his, and said, in a trembling voice, "Dear father, this is my wedding day. I am about to leave you for good. Do not deny me the one and only request I make. Forgive Iver." The old man's lips moved, but he did not speak. He looked steadily, somewhat sternly, at the young man and mustered his appearance. Meanwhile Iver had disengaged himself from his mother's embrace, and he came towards his father with extended hand. "See," said he cheerily, "I am free to admit, and do it heartily, that I did wrong, in painting over the stern of the vessel, and putting it into perspective as far as my lights went. Father! I can remove the coat of paint that I put on, and expose that outrageous old stern again. I will do more. I will violate all the laws of perspective in heaven and earth, and turn the bows round also, so as to thoroughly show the ship's head, and make that precious vessel look like a dog curling itself up for a nap. Will that satisfy you?" All the guests were silent, and fixed their eyes anxiously on the taverner. Iver was frank in speech, had lost all provincial dialect, was quite the gentleman. He had put off the rustic air entirely. He was grown a very handsome fellow, with oval face, full hair on his head, somewhat curling, and his large brown eyes were sparkling with pleasure at being again at home. In his whole bearing there was self-confidence. "Simon!" pleaded Mrs. Verstage, with tears in her voice, "he's your own flesh and blood!" He remained unmoved.