How fair and comfortable the old homestead looked in its setting of greening lawn and flowering garden, with the pleasant sunshine of the April afternoon over all! How cheerful--how ample--how homelike! He ran up the steps of the commodious front porch and was on the point of opening the door when some impulse he could not define made him pause and, instead of turning the knob, announce himself with a rap upon the shining brass knocker. One of the old family servants whom he had known and loved from his infancy, and with whom he had always been a pet, opened the door, and with beaming face and eager voice greeted him with the enthusiastic hospitality of his kind--lifting up his voice and his hands in praise to God that he was once more in this world permitted to look upon the face of "Marse Eddie." The whilom young master of the house was equally, if less picturesquely, warm in his expressions of pleasure at seeing the old man again, and gave him his carpet-bag with instructions to take it to his room and to tell Mrs. Allan that he was there. The venerable darkey's face fell. The "new Mistis" had "changed the house around some," he explained, apologetically, and "Marse's Eddie's" things had been moved to one of the servants' rooms, but "Marse Eddie's" old room was a guest chamber, and he "reckoned" that would be the place to take the bag. The visitor's whole manner changed at once--_froze_. The flush of pleasure died out of his face and left it pale, cold and stern. A fierce and unreasonable rage possessed him. _She had dismantled the room that his little mother had arranged for him and sent his things to a servant's room!_ Was this insult intentional, he wondered? To his mind, his "little Mother" was so entirely the presiding genius of the place--he could not realize the right of anyone, not even a "new mistis," to come in and "change the house around." Cut to the quick, he directed the old butler to leave the bag where it was and to let Mrs. Allan know that he was in the drawing-room. No announcement could have given that lady greater surprise. She regarded Edgar's leaving West Point after her husband's letter, as direct disobedience, and his presenting himself at her door as the height of impertinence. Something of this was in the frigid dignity with which she received him--standing, and drawn up to the full height of her imposing figure.