"Yes, Miss Bertha, that's Mollie; and she is the best girl in the world, except yourself."
"I'm very glad to see you, Mollie," said Bertha, taking her hand, and giving her a kind reception. "Now, come into the house."
Bertha, finding Noddy so completely overcome by his emotions, refrained from asking him any more questions, though she was anxious to hear the sad story of the shipwreck. Mr. Grant had not yet gone to the city, and he received the returned exiles as though they had been his own children.
"I've come back, Mr. Grant, to settle up old affairs, and you can send me to the court-house or the prison now. I did wrong, and I am willing to suffer for it."
"I have told them all about it, Noddy," interrupted Miss Fanny, blushing. "I couldn't stand it after you went away."
"It was my fault," said Noddy. "I said so then, and I say so now."
"We won't say anything about that until after breakfast. We are very glad you have come back; and we don't care about thinking of anything else, at present," said Mr. Grant.
Breakfast was provided for the wanderer and his friend, and Mollie was soon made quite at home by the kind attentions of Bertha and Fanny. When the meal was ended, Noddy insisted upon "settling up old affairs," as he called it. He declared that the blame ought to rest on him, and he was willing to suffer. Mr. Grant said that he was satisfied. Fanny was to blame, and she had already been severely punished for her fault.
"You will not send poor Noddy to prison—will you?" interposed Mollie. "He is a good boy now. He saved my life, and took care of me for months. You will find that he is not the same Noddy, he used to be. He is made over new."
"I'm glad to hear that," replied Mr. Grant. "But Noddy, did you really think I intended to send you to jail?"