"I think I can walk, father now," Joyce said; "and here is Duke, dear Duke!"
"Why, of course, I brought Duke. He is cleverer at finding his way than I am. He soon snuffed you out, good old fellow."
The two other men now turned towards home, with the big lanthorns in their hands, which served for guiding stars. Duke paced slowly between the men, and his master and young mistress, and Gilbert brought up the rear.
The lights of the village were a welcome sight, and the hall door of Fair Acres was open as they came up the road, showing a group of dark, expectant figures, thrown out by the blaze of a wood fire.
"The mistress has lit a fire that we might have a welcome; that is like her wisdom," the squire said. "A few tallow candles would not have been half as cheerful."
"Here we are; here we are!" the squire called out; and then there was a rush of boyish feet, and a great chorus of rejoicing, and a host of questions.
"We have been so anxious, dying of anxiety," exclaimed Charlotte, thinking it necessary to begin to cry.
"What fools you were to walk over that rough, lonely country," Melville said. While Piers could only hover round Joyce, who, seated on a bench or old-fashioned settle by the side of the wide open hearth, held her mother in a tight embrace.
"The boys ought never to have left you," Piers said. "How could Mr. Arundel find the way?"
"Joyce knew it," said Bunny. "Joyce knew it. We have been over that track several times."