“Thank Heaven! I hope she will be all right in a day or two!” exclaimed Grandiere, heartily, as he threw himself into a big armchair and dropped his hat between his feet. “How did you leave Roland?” inquired Wynnette. “Perfectly well, as to his bodily health. He inquired after you all, and sent his respects to you.” “How does he take his arrest and imprisonment?—that is what I meant,” said Wynnette. “Bravely and patiently, as should a man with a good conscience,” replied the captain. “You can prove that he was a prisoner among the pirates, and not a comrade of their crew?” said Wynnette. “I can swear that he was their prisoner,” replied the old man. “And, of course, that will clear him,” said Wynnette, conclusively. The old skipper did not contradict her. Perhaps he might have done so, however, if at that moment the door had not opened to admit a waiter, who brought a handful of cards that he held together like an open fan. Before he could deliver them a group of laughing visitors passed him and entered the room. Rosemary made a dart at the group, exclaiming: “Mother! Oh, mother!” She was caught in the arms of Mrs. Dorothy Hedge and covered with tears and kisses, while the three other girls rushed upon Miss Susannah Grandiere, and the old skipper trotted across the room and shook hands with his grandnephew Sam, who was the only member of the visiting party left for him. The words that followed on all sides were at first rather incoherent, as such greetings after such partings are apt to be. “We followed up the fellow who brought up our tickets. Fancy our staying downstairs to wait for him to go and come! So as he insisted on taking our tickets first and handed us blank ones and a pencil, I wrote all our names down and let him take them, but we followed close behind the tickets!” said Mr. Sam Grandiere. “Cards, dear Sam! Cards!” whispered Wynnette. “How is it that you are not in the army?” inquired Capt. Grandiere. “Because somebody had to stay home to plow and sow and look after the family,” replied the young man. “And so you never volunteered, and you bought a substitute when you were drafted?” “I never volunteered because my father and brother were both in the army, and because, as I said before, somebody had to stay home and look after the crops. And I never was drafted; if I had been I should have gone in, because I could not have found it in my conscience to tempt any poor fellow with money to go and get shot in my place. No, if I had been drafted I should have gone.” “Right, my boy! Right! Right! Right!” exclaimed his uncle, heartily. “And how are all here?” inquired Miss Susannah Grandiere, when at length all were seated. “You see us all here except papa and mamma. Papa is well, but mamma——” Here the speaker, Odalite, paused as the tears choked her voice. Miss Grandiere looked from one to the other of the family party in mute, though anxious inquiry.