The dough was justly divided, and an establishment set up in each locker. Bessie declined altogether; Sam had lent her his beautiful book of _The British Songsters_, and she was hard at work at the table copying a tom-tit, since she no longer carried on the work in secret; but at one locker were the other three elders, at the other the three lesser ones, and little George in a corner by Susan, pegging away at his own private lump, and constantly begging for more. Susan’s ambition was to make a set of real twists, just like Cook’s; and she pulled out and twisted and plaited, though often robbed of her dough by the two boys, whose united efforts were endeavouring to produce a likeness of Purday, with his hat on his head, plums for eyes, a pipe in his mouth, and driving a cow; but unluckily his neck always got pinched off, and his arms would not stay on! No matter; the more moulding of that soft dough the better! Johnnie and Annie had a whole party of white clammy serpents, always being set to bite one another, and to melt into each other; and David was hard at work on a brood of rabbits with currant eyes, and would let no one interfere with him. “Didn’t I hear something!” asked Bessie, looking up. “Oh, it’s only the roller,” said Sam; “Purday always rolls on a wet day.” Something, however, made the whole party of little bakers hold up their heads to listen. There was a gleam on their faces, as a quick alert step sounded on the stairs, and Bessie, the nearest to the door, and not cramped like the rest, who were sitting on their heels, sprang forward and opened it with a scream of joy. There he was—the light, alert, weather-beaten man, with his loose wavy hair, and bright sailor face! There was Papa! Oh, the hurly-burly of children, tumbling up as well as they could on legs crooked under them, and holding out great fans of floury doughy paws, all coming to be hugged in his arms in turn, so that before he had come to the end of the eight in presence, Bessie had had time to whisk off to the nursery, snatch Baby up from before Nurse’s astonished eyes, rush down with her, and put her into his arms. Baby had forgotten him, and was taken with such a fit of screaming shyness, that Susan had to take her, and Annie to play bo-peep with her, before she would let anyone’s voice be heard. “I’ve taken you by surprise, Miss Fosbrook,” said the Captain, shaking hands with her in the midst of the clatter. “Oh, it is such a pleasure!” she began. “I hope you left Mrs. Merrifield much better.” “Much better, much better, thank you. I hope to find her on the sofa when I go back on Thursday. I could only run down for a few days, just to settle things, and see the children, before I join the _Ramilies_. Admiral Penrose very good-naturedly kept it open for me, till we could tell how _she_ was,” said the Captain, with rather a trembling voice. “Then you are going! O Papa!” said Susan, looking up at him; “and Baby will not know you till—”