"You'll go over to the train, of course, George?" asked his wife. "Yes, and you had better come down to the office, and go over with me also. Nettie is going. We'll give them a family welcome," responded George. The five o'clock train came rushing up to the little station, and scarcely was at a standstill, when the two young men and Daisy stepped down on the platform, and hurried toward the waiting Branfords. Of the three, Ray, perhaps, had changed the least. His tall form had rounded out somewhat, and he had a maturer look, but otherwise there was scarcely a perceptible difference. The same honest eyes and noble countenance, the same resolute purpose, and the same trustful spirit were all there. He and Edward have actually completed three years at Clinton Academy, and are now nearly twenty. They have lost nothing in rank as scholars, or in their influence as Christians; and they have been able to meet their expenses largely through their own exertions. Ray was no longer the bell ringer and sweeper at the academy, however. Not that he was ever ashamed of those offices, but because he no longer needed to keep them. George persisted in paying back the money that he had received from Ray in the time of his greatest need, and Mr. Jacob Woodhull as stubbornly declared he had money that belonged to the lad, and from these two, with what he had himself earned during the summer vacation, Ray had enough to meet the expenses of the second year without special effort. Since then he had had a position as tutor to a deformed boy in Easton, and the compensation he received was ample enough to defray his school expenses. This was an arrangement for the year to come also, and Ray had no anxiety on the score of his finances. Edward was more delicate than Ray, and his studies told upon him more. He was, too, the same slightly-built lad of two years before. Daisy, however, had changed the most of all. She was a young lady now; had graduated from the Graded School at Afton, and had been for a year in a young ladies' school of national repute. If she was beautiful as a girl, she is certainly more interesting now as she is just budding into young womanhood. Her golden locks adorn a face of intense loveliness; her bright blue eyes look up almost saucily into yours, while her sweet disposition and earnest Christian spirit win hosts of friends for her wherever she goes. She is a rare scholar, a fine musician, and possesses a voice that would bring her a fortune if she cared to use it for the public. She and Ray are as good friends as ever, and his fine tenor and her soprano blend in wondrous harmony as they sing some of those old matchless hymns of praise unto God. This is not her first visit to Wenton with Ray, and Nettie Branford and she are fast friends, for one tie binds them close together: they are both members of the same royal family, are both daughters of the King.