Wilder had eaten his dinner, and lounged out into the sun, with his pipe, as they walked up. He knew Julia, of course, and Prince, and looked hard at Bart, as they passed; when the comely wife came running out.
"Oh," she exclaimed, taking Julia's hand, "and this—this is Mr.
Ridgeley."
"It is indeed," said Bart, brightly.
"And you are not—not—Oh! your two hearts are happy I see it in both your faces. I am so glad."
Julia bent and kissed her.
"Oh, I knew when he went off so heart-broken, that it wasn't your fault, and I always wished I had kept him."
Sweet, shy, blushing Rose came forward, and Bart took her hands and hoped she would look upon him as an older brother long absent, and just returned. And little lisping George, staring at him curiously, "Are you Plinth Arthur?"
"Prince Arthur?" cried Bart, catching him up, "do I look like a prince?"
"Yeth."
"Take that," said Bart, laughing, giving him a gold coin.