WELCOME VISITORS.

IT was early summer when we removed, and soon afterwards, when our dwelling was looking its prettiest, I had a great surprise.

I was coming home to tea, and as I opened the little garden-gate, I saw Betsy standing in the porch, her face radiant with pleasure and ill-concealed importance.

"There's a visitor waiting for you in your room, Mr. John," she said.

The event was so unusual at that time of day that I felt half afraid, and asked—

"Who is it?"

"Mr. Burford," she replied, but I could hardly understand the peculiar look, which seemed to express more than her words.

I advanced to the door of my room, and there stood my friend, portly and pleasant to look upon, with hand outstretched to meet mine.

"Upon my word, Jack," said he, "you have done wonders. You have made Rose Cottage fit for a lady's bower. It does you great credit. We shall hear of your entertaining gentler guests one of these days. Tell me, now, have you had no feminine help in arranging this room?"

"Mrs. Pritchard, who lives at the station, and who has very good taste, kindly gave me a few hints, but so far has not seen the full result of her help, as she is from home. I hope she and her husband will visit me together before long."

"Then you have had no lady within your walls as yet? That is a pity, Jack. We must mend that;" and Mr. Burford laughed.

He was all the while filling the doorway of my room with his broad person. And I was on the point of saying, "Will you not go in and sit down?" when he stepped aside and revealed—Nelly!

Yes, there stood my old playmate, taller and more womanly-looking, but fairer and sweeter than ever. There was just the same frank, natural manner, just the same bright expression on the dear face; and as she saw me start back in dumb amazement at finding such an unexpected visitor, the same musical laugh came rippling on my ear that I had been accustomed to in the old days.

"Have you not a word of welcome for me, Jack?" she asked as she held out her hand, her face all aglow with pleasure.

"No words can tell how welcome you are, or how glad I am to see you, Nelly," I said as I clasped the little hand in mine, and felt very reluctant to let it go again, for her touch sent a thrill of happiness through my whole being.

Nelly was true; Nelly was unchanged, save that the slender, growing girl had become more graceful. All the angularity belonging to the age at which she left home had disappeared, and everything about her that had been winsome and charming then, had become yet more so during these three years of absence.

To hear her say "Jack" from the first moment, to see her thorough naturalness of manner, revealed the precious truth that adversity, time, change, absence, had failed to deprive me of the friend I valued most of all.

I had drawn a seat forward for Mr. Burford, and Nelly had dropped into a cosy chair of wicker, covered with dainty cretonne, when I ventured to suggest a cup of afternoon tea.

"That will be delightful, Jack, and just what I am longing for. I am hot and thirsty, for my father and I have had a long walk together. I only came home last night, a few days earlier than was at first intended, because by anticipating my journey a little, I could travel with an old friend."

"You did not come to Oakhill Station, Nelly, or I must have seen you," I said.

"No, Jack; we came to Waverton, and drove the four miles thence to Oakhill. I came upon my father unawares, found my mother and Rose from home, and likely to be for another week, so we are taking care of each other. Are we not, dear?"

She held out her hand as she asked the question, and Mr. Burford took it. As they exchanged glances, both began to smile, then came a merry laugh which told a tale. Indeed, the father and daughter were very much like a couple of children who had escaped from their guardians and were bent on having a good time together, even if they paid for it afterwards.

"I am being tyrannised over, you mean, Nelly," remarked Mr. Burford, still holding her hand in his and stroking it softly from time to time.

"This child came to the office, bade me throw work to the winds or wherever I chose, and dragged me out for a long walk with her. Who knows how many clients I may miss by running away at such a time?"

"You were not very busy, you know you were not; only you want me to feel very much obliged to you for being so obedient. I mean to have you nearly all to myself until my mother and Rose come; for even Magnus, poor boy! is away, grinding for an exam. It is something—indeed it is a great deal to see you, Jack," added Nelly. "I feel a little girl again when I hear your voice, though you are sadly grown up now, like myself."

"Yes, Nelly; I am quite a young man of business—station-master now, and hoping to rise still higher."

"'Work, wait, win,'" quoted the girl. "After all, your patience has not been as sorely tried as that of many, but you have worked well, I know, for my father has told me, and to some extent you have already won."

As she spoke, she glanced towards my watch-chain, and noted the short steel one without the appendages she used to see attached to that which had been my mother's.

"It is gone, Nelly," I said, answering the mute inquiry—"gone, to my great regret, for I possessed nothing that I valued more than the little motto-coin."

Then, in a low voice—for Betsy was coming in and out with the tea-things—I told her the story of my loss. "But the motto abides, though the little coin that bore it is gone. It will never leave me, any more than I shall forget the giver."

Nelly gave me a bright look and a little nod of assent, as if agreeing to my words. Then she said, "I suppose you wonder how we happened to call here. My father had not told me a word about your removal, and when we came near this place, I began to ask him who lived in it now, for Rose Cottage was always an object of intense admiration to me as a child. I do not think you ever came here in the old days, Jack, but I did. I have spent many an hour in this very room with Mrs. Henderson, who was a darling old woman with a young heart, and loved to have children about her. I was so sorry when I heard of her death; and as we were going homewards to-day, I said to my father I should like to see the cottage, though the dear tenant was gone, and that I hoped the place was kept in order and the roses pruned and trained.

"He said, 'Yes, the cottage is let again, and is in very good order. I know the tenants, and am sure they will let you have a look at it if you wish.'

"When we reached the door, I saw Betsy Harwood, and guessed the rest. Then we thought it would be great fun to surprise you, Jack, as we found you were expected home soon, and I was glad at the thought of seeing you."

"Think what I am, if you can, Nelly," I replied.

But somehow my words did not come so readily as hers, though my heart was full to the overflowing with joy. She was so natural and girlish in spite of her womany stature and elegant appearance. I began to ask myself whether I should not have been glad to see her more shy towards me, whom she had left a boy and found a man, with a man's work resting on his broad shoulders. It might have been pleasant to note just a shade of self-consciousness in her look, a little drooping of the shapely head, a casting down of the beautiful eyes when hers met mine, but there were none of these things. Her glance was as frank and open as ever; her manner just what a brother would have delighted in, just what I had thought would suffice for all happiness; yet, now I had it, there crept into my mind a shade of dissatisfaction; and why? Nelly was too straightforwardly and unreservedly kind. That was all.

I did, however, see one bright flush covering her face during this visit. It came when, tea being quite ready—and a very prettily arranged meal it was—Mr. Burford said—

"Nelly, you must preside over Jack's board, and make-believe that you are mistress, as you used to do when you had make-believe teas, as children, in the summer-house."

She rose at once and went to the table, but she turned away to take off her gloves and lay aside her outdoor garment. She lingered a little over this, but not long enough for the glow to have faded from her face when she took her seat. She said something about the heat, but I was glad to think that it was not wholly to blame for the lovely colour that must have come so suddenly.

As Nelly looked at the table, on which were brown and white bread and butter, biscuits, jam, crisp cress, and a hot teacake, she turned to me and said—

"Pray, Jack, do you call this a cup of afternoon tea? What a luxurious individual you have become! Here is a perfect feast, and I am so hungry with my walk, I shall do justice to your spread."

"You must remember tea is a meal to me, not a make-believe, to be followed by dinner two hours later. Betsy arranges all for me, and she has only given us a little extra supply. If you are really hungry, and if you were not going to dine afterwards, Nelly, I think we might improve upon it still further."

Nelly was beginning with "Impossible!" and declaring that tea present was much to be preferred to dinner in prospect, when the appetite was ready; but Betsy proved that she had heard my last remark, and acted upon it. She entered at the moment with a little dish of pink ham, in delicate slices, and garnished with parsley.

Nelly laughed like a very child as she saw her, and exclaimed, "Oh Betsy, this is so nice! The sight of your table has carried me back years and years, and made me feel really at home again. Is not this exactly like one of our old teas, Jack, when we had all been specially good, and were allowed a treat? You remember, of course?"

I did remember, and as I glanced back it seemed as though several years were blotted out, and Nelly and I were children again, as happy as ever.

We had the brightest little meal imaginable. No one enjoyed it more than Mr. Burford did, and I am afraid, judging from the way in which Betsy's dainties were appreciated, that the more elaborate home meal would receive scant justice. Never had tea tasted so delicious as that which Nelly poured out and handed to me; never had Lint Hall, in its brightest days, seemed so bright as did my little room for one short hour; never until then had I responded unwillingly to the call of duty, which told me that I must return to Oakhill Station without delay.

Mr. Burford relieved me from a little embarrassment, for he knew what were my hours, and judged how sorry I should be to shorten such a meeting.

"Nelly, my dear," he said, "Jack has work to do of a different kind from that you compelled me to leave. You said mine might wait, and I have allowed it to do so; Jack's cannot, and his absence might involve serious consequences. He will have to go; and so must we, my dear."

"I will be ready directly," she replied, as she rose from the table. "I have not seen half your treasures, Jack, but I hope I may have another chance."

"Indeed, I hope so too, Nelly." And then I dropped my voice a little as I added, "Do you know that your visit this afternoon, has fulfilled the strongest desire of my heart in connection with my new home? I said to myself, 'If only Nelly could just come in and sit once at my table, and then go away able to picture her old playmate amid his every-day surroundings, I should be so contented.' Yet I never dared to hope that my desire would be fulfilled."

"But it has been, and very soon, fulfilling my great wish at the same time; for I did want to see you, Jack. I have thought about you in the old cottage, and grieved over your troubles; indeed, I have magnified them out of very sympathy; and all the while you have been making a steady progress in the right direction. I am so glad and thankful. What you have already done fills me with hope on your account, and I am sure you will attain a good place in the world. Once my single hope was, that Miss Flint would see things in a right light, and devote some of her wealth to giving you back the lands of your fathers. But I do not feel like that now. You will be a happier and a better man for owing prosperity to your own efforts, and you will be able to hold your head the higher—I do not mean proudly, Jack—for having waited and worked patiently before you won it. I must not keep you longer."

"I only wish I could stay, Nelly."

"I know that. Well, we have this last hour to look back on, and we shall no more forget it than we have forgotten our early days during years of absence. Friends once, friends always, Jack."

"Always, Nelly. When we shall meet again, we cannot tell; but having met so unexpectedly, all things seem possible."

A hand-clasp from father and daughter, a hasty good-bye, and I was hurrying back to my work with a sense of such happiness as I had not known before since my father's death.

I laughed to myself from time to time, as I thought of Mr. Burford's face and the reckless, boyish fashion in which he had dared to enjoy himself, and to bring Nelly under the roof that I called "home." What would Mrs. Burford say if she heard of this escapade? Surely no bird of the air would carry the matter; for if so, I feared both Nelly and her father would have an uncomfortable sequel to it. She could not touch me, but I should be grieved if these two kind friends experienced any unpleasantness on my account.

I had not asked Nelly who her travelling companion was, and I wondered if it could be Miss Flint who had been absent for some time past. I hardly thought she would return by Waverton, and drive thence to Lint Hall; but who could account for any fresh whim of Cousin Dorothy's?

I should doubtless soon hear from the Cartwrights whether my relative had come home or not; for, as of old, they were often dropping in to see Jabez and Betsy. Cartwright had been saying that he should like cuttings from some of the roses at our new cottage, as many of them were exceptionally fine, their cultivation having been made quite a hobby of by Mrs. Henderson. He wanted to see them in full bloom, in order to mark the ones he wished to introduce to the Lint Hall gardens.

I had taken care that Nelly did not go without a sample, for whilst we were at tea, I had asked Betsy to cut some of the best flowers. To these I hastily added others from those which clustered round the porch, and gave them to the girl as she was leaving.

"Thank you, Jack," she said, burying her face amongst the scented blossoms. "How lovely they are! We have none so fine at home."

I had felt glad to think that she had something to carry away as a remembrance of her visit, and I knew that, as roses, the neighbourhood could furnish nothing better than those I had to offer.

As I went about my duties during that evening, I did not think of roses, however, but of a fairer picture still. It was delightful to go over the sayings and doings of that happy hour in my little sitting-room, which would henceforth be associated with the precious memory of a reunion longed for, but hardly hoped for. I had become suddenly rich with a new kind of wealth, better than even the worldly riches that had taken to themselves wings.

I was rich in friends—I, who had thought myself all but alone—rich in hope for the future; and I said in my own mind,—

"I will not believe in the impossible. Rather will I cherish the conviction that nothing is unattainable to those who work and wait—work in the right way, and as in God's sight; work with a right motive, and thinking of others' benefit as well as one's own; waiting the while God's time with patience, yet without fear or despondency."

But real duties had to be attended to as well as day-dreams. I was on the platform as the last train ran into the station, and as soon as it came to a stand and the carriage-doors were opened, from one of them Rose Burford stepped lightly down. Then she held out her hand to assist another passenger, and this, I saw, was her mother. Farewell to any hope of seeing Nelly during the next few days. Farewell to the hoped-for "tête-à-tête" between father and daughter.

Mr. Burford would subside into his ordinary routine, and neither he nor Nelly would dare to allude to Rose Cottage or Jack Simpson, in her august presence.

I felt unfeignedly sorry, for I knew how strong was the bond between the father and daughter, and how much Nelly brightened Mr. Burford's life when at home, yet without neglecting her duty to her mother.