Something prompted the boy to stretch out his hand toward his uncle, and he took it with such a warm grasp. "Uncle, I'll be a farmer; I've intended to tell you so for days--only----" "Well, never mind, we understand each other now; and let me say this much, Oscar: the humdrum farm-life, as I've heard you call it behind my back"--Dr. Willett smiled somewhat sadly--"won't be so humdrum as you think, if you make of it a life work--a something to be handled nobly, and made the most of. A tinker's life could be hardly humdrum with that end in view." "If I were a tinker, no tinker beside Should mend an old kettle like me; Let who will be second, whatever betide, The first I'm determined to be," came jingling through the boy's brain, and made him smile. "Yes, uncle, I see; thank you for speaking out." He raised his uncle's hand to his lips and kissed it, as a girl might have done; the distance between him and his uncle was bridged over at last for ever. "You see, I never thought Uncle Jonathan cared for me before," he said to Inna afterward. And now Inna seemed to walk on air; going here and there about the farm with Oscar, who was too weak for study still, but trying with all his might to take an interest in what was going on out of doors. "A good long voyage would cure him of his sea-fever, and quite set him up for hard work," remarked Mr. Barlow to the doctor; and both wondered if it could be managed. * * * * * Well, in the midst of all this, home came Mr. and Mrs. Weston one fine May day, like swallows, to make Inna's summer complete. They arrived suddenly, as travellers often do, the letter that was sent to announce them making its appearance the morning after they were at the farm--for such things do happen now and then. Now the days followed on indeed like a happy dream to Inna, she and her mother comparing notes together, and joining the threads of their divided lives again. Mr. Mortimer spirited her father off to London, for they all came in a bunch to the farm; Mrs. Mortimer also accompanied the gentlemen; but when the business which took them there was arranged, they were to return to keep holiday with Mrs. Weston and Inna. Meanwhile, the little girl introduced her mother to Madame Giche and her nieces, and showed her, at her aged friend's request, the fine old house, took her to the picture-gallery, to hear the story of Madame Giche's son, who broke her heart; and if Mrs. Weston's very soul was stirred within her, hearing the sad tale and looking at its poor dead subject's face, nobody knew it--she kept it to herself. Then back came the three from London, like happy children, to join the rest. "With his house full of company, the doctor felt bound to come out of his shell to entertain them," as Mr. Barlow remarked to Oscar.