"Yes, yes, we're coming, my dear," said Van Heldre, laying his hand affectionately on Uncle Luke's shoulder, and they were soon after seated round the table, with the elder visitor showing at times quite another side of his character. No allusion was made to the adventure of the morning, but Leslie felt in the gentle tenderness displayed towards him by mother and daughter that much had been said, and that he had won a very warm place in their regard. In fact, in word and look, Mrs Van Heldre seemed to be giving him a home in her motherly heart, which was rather embarrassing, and would have been more so, but for Madelaine's frank, pleasant way of meeting his gaze, every action seemed to be sisterly and affectionate, but nothing more. So Leslie read them, but so did not the elders at the table. By mutual consent no allusion was made to the missing brig, and it seemed to Leslie that the thoughts of mother and daughter were directed principally to one point, that of diverting Van Heldre from his troublesome thoughts. "Ah, I was hungry," said Uncle Luke, when the repast was about half over. "Very pleasant meal, only wanted one thing to make it perfect." "Why, my dear Luke Vine, why didn't you speak? What is it? oh, pray say." "Society," said Uncle Luke, after pausing for a moment to turn towards the window, a gust having giving it a tremendous shake. "I say if I find my place blown away, can you find me a dry shed or a dog kennel, or something, Leslie?" "Don't talk such stuff, Luke Vine," cried Mrs Van Heldre. "Don't take any notice of him, Mr Leslie, he's a rich old miser and nothing else. Now Luke Vine, what do you mean?" "Said what I meant, society. Why didn't you ask my sister to dinner? She'd have set us all right, eh, Madelaine?" "Oh, I don't know," said Madelaine, smiling. "But I do," cried her mother; "she'd have set us all by the ears with her nonsense. You are a strange pair." "We are--we are. Nice sherry this, Van." "Glad you like it," said Van Heldre, with his eyes turned towards the window, as if he expected news. "How a woman can be so full of pride and so useless puzzles me." "Mamma!" whispered Madelaine, with an imploring look. "Let her talk, my dear," said Uncle Luke, "it doesn't hurt any one. Don't talk nonsense, Van's wife. What use could you make of her? She is like the thistle that grows up behind my place, a good-looking prickly plant, with a ball of down for a head. Let her be; you always get the worst of it. The more you excite her the more that head of hers sends out floating downy seeds to settle here and there, and do mischief. She has spoiled my nephew Harry, and nearly spoiled my niece." "Don't you believe it, Mr Leslie," cried Madelaine, with a long earnest look in her eyes. "Quite true. Miss Impudence," continued Uncle Luke. "Always was a war between me and the useless plants."