And so when all went upstairs, the dog trotted up soberly after his little mistress, and when the latter reached their room, he laid himself down contentedly on the rug, and watched until he saw them abed and asleep. Then he resigned himself to rest.
“Oh! the rapture of being at home again!” breathed little Elva, standing on the rose-wreathed front piazza, and looking forth upon the splendid April morning, when the sky was blue, and the bay was blue, and the forest trees of tenderest green, and the orchard trees with apple blossoms, peach blossoms, all like one vast parterre of blossoming flowers; and the tulips, hyacinths, jonquils, daffodils, pansies, japonicas, and all the wealth and splendor of spring bloom on the flower beds on the lawn were radiant with color and redolent of perfume.
“Oh! the rapture of being at home!” said little Elva, softly to herself, as she gazed on the scene.
“‘Hail, blest scenes of my childhood!’” sentimentally murmured a voice behind her.
Elva turned quickly, and saw, as she expected to see, the mocking face of Wynnette.
“Oh, Wynnette! how can you make such fun of me!” inquired Elva, in an aggrieved tone.
“To prevent other things making a fool of you. Come in, now, to breakfast. They are all down, and I came out to look for you.”
The girls went in together, and took their places at the table.
When the breakfast was over, Le asked his uncle for the loan of a horse to ride over to Greenbushes.
“I want to take a look at the little place, which I have not seen for three years and more,” he explained.