They had scarcely completed their task before a sharp rap was instantly followed by the pushing open of the door, and Hugh entered alone, vigorously stamping the snow off his feet. Miss Joe looked at the snow and her soiled floor, and sighed heavily and shook her head before she even advanced to welcome her nephew. That greeting over, Hugh extended his hand to his young wife with a “How do you do, Agnes, my dear?” and threw himself heavily into a great armchair by the fire. Yes! it seemed but too true! The little love Agnes had inspired him with during their short acquaintance had all evaporated during the not much longer sea voyage! Would he go to his room and change his dress? Would he have water? Everything was in readiness for him upstairs. No! he would stay here in this armchair by the chimney corner until they should sit down to tea. He did not wish to give anybody any trouble. He begged that they would take none. Besides, he was so glad to see his good aunt and little Agnes that he did not wish to lose a single moment of their company for the little time that he had to stay with them. Then Miss Joe invited him, as soon as he should feel himself sufficiently rested, to take off his overcoat and sit down to supper. Then Hugh arose, and Agnes quietly took his hat and Miss Joe drew off his overcoat and inducted him into his seat at the table. The supper was a feast. Besides the usual indispensables of coffee, rich cream, fresh butter and light bread, there were oysters and wild duck, stewed fruit, cakes, and so on. Hugh asked Agnes how she liked her island home. This was the first question he had put to her since his return. Agnes answered that she liked it very well. Did she not find it lonesome? “No, indeed.” Poor Agnes in her desire to be agreeable was totally unconscious of her falsehood. Then Hugh turned to Miss Joe, inquiring kindly after her health. Oh, her health was always good, and had never been better than at this moment. When tea was over and the table cleared away they all drew around the fire. Miss Joe, with her reel and yarn, and Agnes sitting idle in compliment of Hugh’s return. Hugh, on his part, began to tell them of his voyage, of his success, of his happiness to find himself at home again; of a certain large and well-filled box which he hoped might be acceptable to his aunt and Agnes. Whereupon Miss Joe began an exordium on the sin of “heaving away” money, which was gently cut short by Hugh, who, rising up, announced that he really ought to have been back to his vessel an hour before, and that he must now take leave of them. “When shall we see you again?” “To-morrow, about noon.” “What! not before?” “No; I have to go to Huttontown.” “Well, you’ll stay when you do come?” “I am afraid I cannot promise you, indeed, aunt; but, at all events, I will see you every day, and make it a point to spend the whole of Christmas Day with you. Good-night, aunt! Good-night, Agnes, my dear!”