After Aunt Jane’s death, Uncle Job came on to Little Sandy, and together we spent several months acquainting ourselves with her affairs, for among other things it was provided in the will that he should be trustee of the estate until I was come of age. In regard to this, however, she was at pains to express the wish that I should have my way from the start, being a man grown, she said, and not likely to abuse her confidence in any respect. Thus it fell out that at seventeen, through her great wisdom and love, I was no longer poor and without a home, but rich beyond anything I could have dreamed of. When, finally, there was nothing further to keep us, and I had visited the graves of those dear to me for the last time, we bade good by to the place, leaving Moth and Fox in charge. Of their stewardship I never had cause to regret, for through their wise and faithful management my affairs prospered in the years that were to come beyond anything I could have thought possible. Taking our departure, we passed through Little Sandy, and now for the last time. For when I came again there was no house to mark the spot, and where the streets had been a young forest grew, and birds flew in and out or hid themselves in its silent depths. Passing the Dragon, I saluted it, and with reverent sadness, as one might a departing friend, for in its silent rooms and deserted halls it treasured memories that only death could lessen or efface. Our journey home was without event, and so filled with the sweetness of the country that when we reached Appletop we were rested in body and mind as from a refreshing sleep. Constance, as if to set my heart in a greater flame, was grown taller and more beautiful, if that could be, but otherwise had not changed; or if she had, it was to my advantage, for when I asked her if she had greatly missed me, she answered that my absence only added to her love; at which sweet confession I kissed her and was content. Some time after our return Mr. Seymour gave a dinner at the Dragon in my honor, but quite informally, so the announcement ran. At the table I sat next to Constance, and, truth to tell, to the great loss of my appetite; for much of the time my food was untasted and my fork lay idle on my plate that I might be the more free to pay her some compliment or press her hand beneath the cloth. There being no one but friends present, my affairs were much discussed, and this with such excess of joy and good nature that I was many times in tears, so greatly was I affected by their kind speeches and the recollection of their goodness to me in the past. Mr. Seymour I never saw in better spirits, for my good fortune was as if it had come to him, or as if I had, indeed, been his own son. When the evening was somewhat advanced, he filled his glass, and looking into the faces of those about him, said, in his amiable way: