“The bells, papa! The bells, mamma!” exclaimed Louis—“Oh, it's home, dear, sweet home! The bells are ringing because you are come home, papa; and look, there are all the people coming out of the cottages—how glad they seem to be!”
“Louis, Louis, here we go!” shouted Reginald, as the carriage swept down a lane arched over with green boughs.
Presently they came to the lodge gate; but not a moment had they to wait; it was wide open, and they could scarcely exchange marks of recognition with the gatekeeper and family, when they were out of sight in the long winding carriage road that led through the park.
“Welcome, welcome—home! The dear, dear old Priory,” said Louis, with increasing enthusiasm.
“Take care you are not out on the grass, Louis,” said his mother, seizing his arm.
“Here we are!” cried Reginald. “And there's Mary, the little pussy, and sober Neville, looking out of his wits, for a wonder. Here we are!”
Chapter XII.
“Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.”—Eccles. ix. 10.
“Watch and pray.”—Matt. xxvi. 41.