At the door of Dum’s Ness they found Mr. Cardus apparently gazing abstractedly at the ocean, but in reality waiting to greet Ernest, to whom of late years he had grown greatly attached, though his reserve seldom allowed him to show it. “Hullo, uncle, how are you? You look pretty fresh,” sang out that young gentleman before the cart had fairly come to a standstill. “Very well, thank you, Ernest. I need not ask how you are. I am glad to see you back. You have come at a lucky moment, too, for the ‘Batemania Wallisii’ is in flower, and the ‘Grammatophyllum speciosum’ too. The last is splendid.” “Ah,” said Ernest, deeply interested, for he had much of his uncle’s love for orchids, “let’s go and see them.” “Better have some dinner first; you must be hungry. The orchids will keep, but the dinner won’t.” It was curious to see what a ray of light this lad brought with him into that rather gloomy household. Everybody began to laugh as soon as he was inside the doors. Even Grice of the beady eyes laughed when he feigned to be thunder-struck at the newly developed beauty of her person, and mad old Atterleigh’s contorted features lit up with something like a smile of recognition when Ernest seized his hand and worked it like a pump-handle, roaring out his congratulations on the jollity of his looks. He was a bonny lad, the sight of whom was good for sore eyes. After dinner he went with his uncle, and spent half an hour in going round the orchid-houses with him and Sampson the gardener. The latter was not behind the rest of the household in his appreciation of “Meester” Ernest. “’Twasn’t many lads,” he would say, “that knew an ‘Odontoglossum’ from a ‘Sobralia,’” but Ernest did, and, what was more, knew whether it was well grown or not. Sampson appreciated a man who could discriminate orchids, and set his preference for Ernest down to that cause. The dour-visaged old Scotchman did not like to own that what really charmed him was the lad’s open-handed, openhearted manner, to say nothing of his ready sympathy and honest eyes.