“Halloa, little one,” he said, cheerily, as she ran up to him with a joyous face, “so you have not forgotten grandfather. Bless me, you are not a bit like Vi, you have taken after Alick. So this is the boy, nurse? Dear me! which is the nurse?” looking at me with rather a puzzled countenance. “I am the nurse, sir,” I returned, quietly; “and this is Hannah.” “Hannah Sowerby, of course. Bless me, I never forget a face—never; I knew yours directly,” as Hannah dropped a countrified curtsey to the squire. “I saw Michael the other day; he was looking hale and hearty—hale and hearty; ‘that comes of hard work and temperate living, Michael,’ I said—oh, we are both of an age, old Michael and I, and I am hale and hearty, too. So this is my grandson; he is a fine fellow; takes after Vi, I should say. Come along, come along, there’s auntie waiting for us,” and, talking half to us and half to himself, Mr. Cheriton led us through the station. On the way, however, we were stopped twice; first, the station master was interviewed and the children introduced to him— “My grandchildren, Drake,” observed the Squire, proudly, twirling his gold headed stick as he spoke; then a burly farmer jostled against the squire, and the two commenced observations on the weather. “Fine weather for the crops, Roberts; the oats look lively. These are my grandchildren; fine boy that.” “Little girl looks rather peaky, squire; wants a bit of fattening.” “Eh, what! We’ll fatten her, won’t we, Joyce?” pinching the child’s thin cheek. “Takes after her father, Alick Morton. You can’t find fault with my grandson, Roberts, I hope; never seen a finer child in my life.” “Father, father,” exclaimed a fresh young voice, “what are you doing with those children? Methuselah is fretting terribly to be off. Do be quick, pray.” “I am coming, Gay. Now then, all of you, move on. Ta-ta, Roberts.” And Mr. Cheriton drove us out before him. An open barouche was waiting at the door, and a young lady was on the box trying to hold in a pair of thoroughbreds. When she saw us, she at once handed the reins to her father, and jumped lightly to the ground. “Kiss me, you darlings,” she said, coaxingly; “don’t you know me yet?” as Joyce hung back a little shyly. “I am Gay, the little auntie, as you used to call me. How do you do, Miss Fenton—you see I know your name. Hannah, I am glad to see you again. There is plenty of room for us all; the boxes are going by omnibus. Now, father, we are all ready,” and in another moment Methuselah and his mate were on their homeward way.