Parry lifted his head, and opened and shut his eyes, with an expression of great satisfaction, very different from that he had bestowed on Ellen. Ellen gave him up for the present as a hopeless case, and turned her attention to the chocolate, which had now received the milk, and must be watched lest it should run over, which Alice said it would very easily do when once it began to boil again. Meanwhile Ellen wanted to know what chocolate was made of — where it came from — where it was made best — burning her little face in the fire all the time, lest the pot should boil over while she was not looking. At last the chocolate began to gather a rich froth, and Ellen called out — "Oh, Alice! look here — quick! here's the shape of the spoon on the top of the chocolate! do look at it." An iron spoon was in the pot, and its shape was distinctly raised on the smooth frothy surface. As they were both bending forward to watch it, Alice waiting to take the pot off the moment it began to boil, Ellen head a slight click of the lock of the door, and turning her head, was a little startled to see a stranger there, standing still at the far end of the room. She touched Alice's arm without looking round. But Alice started to her feet with a slight scream, and in another minute had thrown her arms round the stranger, and was locked in his. Ellen knew what it meant now, very well. She turned away as if she had nothing to do with what was going on there, and lifted the pot of chocolate off the fire with infinite difficulty; but it was going to boil over, and she would have broken her back rather than not do it. And then she stood with her back to the brother and sister, looking into the fire, as if she was determined not to see them till she couldn't help it. But what she was thinking of, Ellen could not have told, then or afterwards. It was but a few minutes, though it seemed to her a great many, before they drew near the fire. Curiosity began to be strong, and she looked round to see if the new- comer was like Alice. No, not a bit — how different! — darker hair and eyes — not a bit like her; handsome enough, too, to be her brother. And Alice did not look like herself; her usually calm, sweet face was quivering and sparkling now — lit up as Ellen had never seen it — oh, how bright! Poor Ellen herself had never looked duller in her life; and when Alice said, gaily, "This is my brother, Ellen," her confusion of thoughts and feelings resolved themselves into a flood of tears; she sprang and hid her face in Alice's arms. Ellen's were not the only eyes that were full just then, but of course she did not know that. "Come, Ellen," whispered Alice, presently, "look up! — what kind of a welcome is this? come! — we have no business with tears just now. Won't you run into the kitchen for me, love," she added, more low, "and ask Margery to bring some bread and butter, and anything else she has that is fit for a traveller?"