bestowed a kiss on a cheek which had languor and exhaustion in the
very touch.

"She was tired to death, mother," said Charlie, "so we did not wait
for the train."

"Quite right!" and as the newcomer sank into the chair he offered--
"My dear, you are sadly knocked up! You were hardly fit to come."

"Thank you, I am quite well," answered the fagged timid voice.

"Hark!" as the crash of a peal of bells came up. "Dear child, you
will like to rest before any fresh introductions. You shall go to
your room and have some tea there."

"Thank you."

"Charlie, call Susan.--She is my boys' old nurse, now mine. Only
tell me you have good accounts from my boy Miles."

"Oh yes;" and the hand tightly clasped the closely-written letter
for which the mother's eyes felt hungry. "He sent you his love, and
he will write to you next time. He was so busy, his first
lieutenant was down in fever."

"Where was he?"

"Off Zanzibar--otherwise the crew was healthy--the 12th of August,"
she answered, squeezing out the sentences as if constrained by the
mother's anxious gaze.