Mrs. Linley rewarded him with a kiss. If a married stranger had
seen them, at that moment, he would have been reminded of
forgotten days--the days of his honeymoon.

"And now," Linley resumed, "suppose we talk a little about
ourselves. I haven't seen any brother yet. Where is Randal?"

"Staying at the farm to look after your interests. We expect him
to come back to-day. Ah, Herbert, what do we not all owe to that
dear good brother of yours? There is really no end to his
kindness. The last of our poor Highland families who have
emigrated to America have had their expenses privately paid by
Randal. The wife has written to me, and has let out the secret.
There is an American newspaper, among the letters that are
waiting your brother's return, sent to him as a little mark of
attention by these good grateful people." Having alluded to the
neighbors who had left Scotland, Mrs. Linley was reminded of
other neighbors who had remained. She was still relating events
of local interest, when the clock interrupted her by striking the
hour of the nursery dinner. What had become of Kitty? Mrs. Linley
rose and rang the bell to make inquiries.

On the point of answering, the servant looked round at the open
door behind him. He drew aside, and revealed Kitty, in the
corridor, hand in hand with Sydney Westerfield--who timidly
hesitated at entering the room. "Here she is mamma," cried the
child. "I think she's afraid of you; help me to pull her in."

Mrs. Linley advanced to receive the new member of her household,