The Clever Woman of the Family

She gave up talking in despair, and by the time the young gentlemen had

tired themselves into quiescence, and began to eat the provisions, both

ladies were glad to be allowed a little silence.

Coming over the last hill, Conrade roused at his mother's summons

to look out at "home," and every word between them showed how fondly

Avonmouth had been remembered far away.

"The sea!" said Fanny, leaning forwards to catch sight of the long grey

line; "it is hard to believe we have been on it so long, this seems so

much more my own."

"Yes," cried Rachel, "you are come to your own home, for us to take care

of you."

"I take care of mamma! Major Keith said so," indignantly exclaimed

Conrade.

"There's plenty of care for you both to take," said Fanny, half-smiling,

half-sobbing. "The Major says I need not be a poor creature, and I will

try. But I am afraid I shall be on all your hands."

Both boys drummed on her knee in wrath at her presuming to call herself

a poor creature--Conrade glaring at Rachel as if to accuse her of the

calumny.

"See the church," said Lady Temple, glad to divert the storm, and

eagerly looking at the slender spire surmounting the bell-turret of a

small building in early-decorated style, new, but somewhat stained by

sea-wind, without having as yet acquired the tender tints of time. "How

beautiful!" was her cry. "You were beginning the collection for it when

I went away! How we used to wish for it."

"Yes, we did," said Rachel, with a significant sigh; but her cousin had

no time to attend, for they were turning in a pepper-box lodge. The boys

were told that they were arrived, and they were at the door of a sort

of overgrown Swiss cottage, where Mrs. Curtis and Grace stood ready to

receive them.

There was a confusion of embraces, fondlings, and tears, as Fanny clung

to the aunt who had been a mother to her--perhaps a more tender one than

the ruling, managing spirit, whom she had hardly known in her childhood;

but it was only for a moment, for Wilfred shrieked out in an access of

shyness at Grace's attempt to make acquaintance with him; Francis was

demanding, "Where's the orderly?" and Conrade looking brimful of wrath

at any one who made his mother cry. Moreover, the fly had arrived,

and the remainder had to be produced, named, and kissed--Conrade and

Francis, Leoline and Hubert, Wilfred and Cyril, and little Stephana the

baby. Really the names were a study in themselves, and the cousins felt

as if it would be hopeless to endeavour to apply them.