“Why, that is my Dick’s laugh, I should know it anywhere,” said Mrs. Bronson, who had been standing with Gertrude outside the house door, listening for the first sound of Nell’s coming.
“And that is Nell talking to Patsey; how merry they seem, and how thankful I am that she has got home safely!” exclaimed Gertrude, with a sigh of relief.
Mrs. Bronson had started off to meet the group coming down, and Gertrude followed her.
“My dear Dick, where did you spring from?” cried the mother’s voice, with a ring of glad welcome in it.
“I might ask you the same question, I think,” he replied as he stooped and kissed her, and then as the moonlight fell on her face, Nell saw that she was the original of the portrait, which had been in the case with the thirty dollars—a woman past middle life with a beautiful face, and a sweet, kindly expression.
“What have you been doing, Dick?” the mother asked anxiously, as if her son’s appearance caused her anxiety.
“I have been paying my debts, mother, and helping Miss Hamblyn out of a difficulty, because she helped me two years ago,” he said quietly.
“Oh, you have found her at last!” exclaimed Mrs. Bronson, and then putting her hands on Nell’s shoulders, she looked searchingly into the girl’s face.
“I lost my way and fell into an empty pocket; then Mr. Bronson pulled me out, and kindly gave me some supper; but he has had nothing himself, except a piece of bread and some tea; will you please induce him to come in and let us give him some food?” asked Nell, who had flushed to a bright red under Mrs. Bronson’s gaze.
“Oh yes, we will make him come in and feed him. Then he can sling his hammock under the cedar tree and sleep in peace until morning,” the lady said, with a satisfied laugh, as if her close inspection of Nell had pleased her. “I foresee that he will also want breakfast when morning comes, so you will have two boarders on your hands instead of one.”