"Now mind and keep the pots boiling, Polly, and a good clear fire to the roast beef." "Eh, never you fear, Miss Dolly, I'll cook 'em prime." Dolly proceeded to arrange the dinner table with exquisite neatness. She had just concluded her preparations and made her simple toilet, when a post chaise, the roof loaded with trunks, dashed up to the house. Pincher, who had been restlessly following his young mistress from the kitchen to the big hall during the morning, as if he had a right to inspect all her operations, rushed out and greeted the arrival of the bridal party, with a torrent of angry barking. Mr. Rushmere, in his best Sunday suit, hurried to the carriage to receive his long absent son. Mrs. Rushmere was not as well as usual, and was much agitated by the expected reunion. She was reclining in her easy chair, near the window, where she could get the first sight of the party without being seen. Dorothy was leaning over the back of the chair, dreading the effect of her first interview with Gilbert and the introduction to her daughter-in-law might have upon the weak nerves of the mother. "Silence your confounded barking, you unmannerly cur," cried the farmer, kicking poor honest Pincher from between his feet, "and don't go and skear the women folk." "Oh, my dog! my beautiful Jewel," screamed a shrill female voice, "that ugly brute will kill my pet! Here, Martha," calling to a coarse, vulgar dumpy-looking girl, who sat beside the driver on the box, "come down quick, and take care of my dog." The girl left her lofty perch, in her descent showing a pair of legs that would have beat the world-renowned Mullengar heifer hollow, and taking a white curly little poodle from the arms of her mistress, sulkily waddled with him into the house. "What, Pincher! The good old dog," cried a well remembered voice. "Come here, sir, and speak to your master." The dog fairly leaped up into Gilbert's arms, and said, "How do you do," as plain as a dog could do. "Father, how are you?" holding out his left hand. "As hale and hearty, I see, as ever. Will you help out the ladies, while I go and speak to mother?" "That's my Gilly," said Mrs. Rushmere, half rising from her chair. "God bless him." The next moment she was sobbing on his shoulder. "Good God, what's the matter with mother? Dear mother, how ill you look; speak to me, mother." "Leave her to me, Mr. Rushmere. She has been ill for some weeks. The joy of seeing you again, is too much for her," said Dorothy, bathing the hands and temples of the invalid with sal volatile. "Dorothy Chance, can that be you?" cried Gilbert, gazing in astonishment at the beautiful young woman before him. "Well, wonders will never cease. I left you a buxom country girl, I return after a few months and find you a lady. Have you no word for an old friend?" "Gilbert, I am glad to see you back, for your mother's sake. I wish you much joy of your marriage." Gilbert felt hurt and humbled.