"Nonsense, Joyce; I'll manage it. There, let that bag go into the hold, and heave over the box. I'll cram them all in."
"The captain is right, miss—beg your pardon, missus, I should say"—said old Thomas, wiping his head vigorously with his pocket handkerchief.
"Very well; now we are all ready. I hope mother is coming. Gently, Falcon, gently; don't pull dear old Duke so roughly."
"I want to take Duke to Bristol, mother; Grannie has left Fair Acres, and she is old; why shouldn't Duke?"
"Duke would not be happy in Great George Street; would you, dear Duke?"
Joyce bent down to the grizzled head of the friend of so many years, and said:
"Ah! Duke, we are all getting old."
Presently more voices were heard in the hall, and Mrs. Falconer appeared with a little grand-daughter on either side, while Susan Priday brought up the procession with the baby in her arms.
"Now, dear mother, I think we are all ready. Have you enough wraps? Where are Melville and Gratian and Piers?"
"Melville is not dressed," said Piers, coming forward, "and Gratian has just had her cup of chocolate taken her in bed."