India without meeting such an unmitigated heathen as the London rough."
"Ay, but to think that they should worship dumb idols and stocks and stones."
"Better that than to worship the devil."
"My dear Arthur," said his mother in a gently protesting voice, "this is not a mess-table, that you should talk in this shocking way."
When Mr. Morgan got up to go, it was settled that Mrs. Yorke and her son should not come down to the vicarage till a little before dinner; "for you know, William," said the lady, "I have so much to talk about with my dear boy, my prodigal son who has come back again; so you must spare him to his fond mother for a while."
Mrs. Yorke's house was in a quiet street leading into the Close, small, but with a quaint exterior suited to the locality, neat and comfortable within. At the back was a garden, bounded by the high wall of the deanery, neatly kept, and with a trim lawn just large enough for croquet. And when she led the way into the garden, in order that they might "enjoy comfortably a long talk about India," the sight of the croquet-hoops set her off in explanation of the mysteries of that fascinating game, just then coming to fashion; and on learning that Arthur had no practical acquaintance with it, she would fain have made a beginning of teaching him then and there, proposing to send Susan round to the precentor and one of the minor canons, who were devoted to the pastime, to make up a party. But just then some callers arrived, and were succeeded by others; and when all had left it was time to set out for the vicarage, up to which period Mrs. Yorke had successfully restrained her burning curiousity to hear all about India.
Yorke and his mother walked down to St. Clement's in the fine May afternoon, a little boy who had been chartered by Susan to carry the box of presents he had brought with him following in the rear; and Mrs. Yorke exchanged greetings with various acquaintances by the way, to each of whom he was introduced as "my son the colonel from India, you know, so distinguished — a C. B. and Victoria Cross, you know; "while the person addressed, generally a middle-aged lady, would reply: "Dear me, you don't say so! how proud you must feel! very gratified and honoured to make your acquaintance, colonel, I am sure," — or words to that effect, till Yorke became quite ashamed of hearing the formula repeated, and hardly knew whether to be cross or amused. Arrived at the vicarage, a newly-built substantial house on the outskirts of the town, hard by a conventicle-looking building of hideous elevation, plastered white, the servant who opened the door said that mistress was in her bedroom, would they please step up there; and accordingly Arthur followed his mother up the stairs to that apartment.
His sister, who was sitting in an easy-chair by a fire, although the afternoon was a warm one, rose as he came in, and her affectionate greeting as she embraced him with tears in her eyes seemed a measure of compensation for any disappointment he might so far have felt. Then sitting down again, but still holding his hand, she looked up, and smiling through her tears, said, in a fervent and yet languid way, "This is indeed a blessed moment!"
"Our dearest Arthur looks well, does he not?" said Mrs. Yorke; "who would think that he had been through such perils?"
"Yes, indeed," said Rebecca. "Ah, my dearest brother, you can have no idea what anxiety we suffered on your account during that dreadful time."
"Yes, truly," echoed Mrs. Yorke, "it was a dreadful time for all those who had friends in India. And only think, Rebecca, of his taking off his beard, and yesterday, too, of all days! So naughty of him, for I do admire beards for gentlemen."
"He looks very well as he is," said Rebecca, still holding his hand and looking up smiling; "but you have not seen the children yet. Mother, would you ring the bell for them? I have made inquiries about that under-nurse," she continued while Mrs. Yorke performed the office in question, "and here is Mrs. Jones's answer. Satisfactory generally, except that she wants ten pounds; but I say I will not give more than eight, and all found."
"And quite right too," said her mother, with more energy of manner than was usual with her. "There is no good in giving servants high wages; they only spend it in dress and nonsense."
"That is just what William says," continued Rebecca, "that it is our bounden duty to discourage extravagance among those around us. He says I ought not to give beer-money, or beer either, and I am sure they would be better without it."
The conversation was interrupted at this interesting point by the entry of the nurses and children — Rebecca, aged five, Maria four, Georgina not quite three, and Arthur Yorke, the youngest, in the nurse's arms. Presentations to their uncle fol-
