And then a happy little procession went down the stairs to supper—Paul in his father's arms, Stella running in front to open doors. Exclamations of joy greeted them as they appeared, for this was Paul's first appearance below stairs. And his mother, who at the first glance saw that it was her old, happy Paul who had come back to them, and that all the shadow which had come between them had been cleared away, felt happier than she had for many a long day. For one wilful mischievous boy can not only make himself thoroughly unhappy, but everyone about him becomes unhappy too.
A week or two later they left Moor Farm for home, their holiday ended.
"Well," said Mr. Anketell, drawing a deep breath as he took his seat beside them in the train, "it seems to me we lost nothing in the way of excitement by not going to Norway. Dartmoor was able to give us as much as we could manage with."
"I have never regretted the change," said Mrs. Anketell heartily, "have you children?"
"Oh, no," cried Michael, excitedly. "We had adventures all the time, and shooting, and everything."
"Yes," said Paul, laughing ruefully, "and I provided most of them."