“Poor Field’s little one? Yes, of course.”
“But tell me! tell me of them all!”
“All well! all right! But how—”
“The Mozambique was out of coal and had to put in at Falmouth. You know, I came by her because they said the long sea voyage would be best for this child, and it was so long since I had heard of any one that I durst not send anywhere till I knew—and I knew Froggatt’s would be in its own place. Oh! there’s the new hotel! the gas looks just the same! There’s the tower of St. Oswald’s, all shadowy against the sky. Look, Lena! Oh! this is home! I know the lamps. I’ve dreamt of them! Tired, Lena, dear? cold? Shall I carry you?”
“No, no; let me!” and he lifted her up, not unwillingly on her part, though she did not speak. “You are a light weight,” he said.
“I am afraid so,” answered Angel. “Oh! there’s the bus stopping at Mr. Pratt’s door.”
“Mine, now. We have annexed it.”
“But let me go in by the dear old shop. The window is as of old, I see. Ernest Lamb! don’t you know me?” as a respectable tradesman came forward. “And Achille, is it? You are as much changed as this old shop is transmogrified! And they are all well? Do you mean Bernard?”
“Bernard and Phyllis may come home any day to deposit a child. They lost their boy, and hope to save the elder one. But come, Angel! if you have taken in enough we must go up to those electrical girls. Dolores is come to give a lecture, with the other girl to assist, Miss Prescott.”
“Dolores! Yes, poor Gerald’s love! They are almost myths to me. Ah!” as Lancelot opened his office-door, “now I know where I am! And there’s the old staircase! This is the real thing, and no mistake.”