“Stop, stop!” cried Rupert; “let me say that you are coming, or the sudden surprise may be too trying to our mother’s nerves.”
But Percy had been seen from the verandah, and a middle-aged lady and three young ones came rushing down the steps, followed by a tall, strongly built gentleman, who seemed well capable of wielding an axe or a broadsword, as occasion might require.
“Percy, Percy!” cried the lady. “I know you, my dear boy! It must be you. Say I am right!”
“Yes, mother, yes,” answered Percy, and rushing forward he was soon receiving affectionate embraces from his mother and sisters. His father was not long behind them, and then Rupert brought up Denis, who was received in the kindest manner, faithful Raff coming in for a share of their attention.
Another person soon appeared upon the scene. A gaunt woman, her grey hair destitute of cap, a red shawl over her shoulders, came rushing down the steps, a basting ladle in her hand, which she threw unconsciously to the ground, while she stretched out her arms as she gazed at Percy, and throwing them round him, exclaimed—
“Sure it’s Masther Percy himself come home at last. Welcome, welcome! It does my heart good to see you, although it’s a mighty outlandish country you’ve come to.”
“It’s home, however, Biddy, for I’m sure you must be Biddy Gillooly; though so many years have passed since you carried me in your arms, I remember you perfectly,” answered Percy, returning her embrace.
“Blessings on ye, Masther Percy, for saying that,” cried Biddy; “and who is the other young gintleman?”
“A countryman of yours,” answered Percy, introducing Denis. “He’ll be glad to have a talk with you about the old country, although he’s not seen much of it himself since he was a small boy.”
Biddy was delighted to find that Denis was actually born in her native village.