The time at length arrived for their return to town, and, to judge from
the pleasure depicted in the countenances of the happy pair, the
contemplated intrusion of the world on their family circle was anything
but disagreeable. Old John, under the able generalship of Mrs. Waddledot,
had made every requisite preparation for their reception. Enamelled cards,
superscribed with the names of Mr. and Mrs. Applebite, and united together
with a silver cord tied in a true lover's knot, had been duly enclosed in
an envelope of lace-work, secured with a silver dove, flying away with a
square piece of silver toast. In company with a very unsatisfactory bit of
exceedingly rich cake, this glossy missive was despatched to the whole of
the Applebite and Waddledot connexion, only excepting the eighteen
daughters who Mrs. Waddledot had reason to believe would not return her
visit.

The meeting of the young wife and the wife's mother was touching in the
extreme. They rushed into each other's arms, and indulged in plentiful
showers of "nature's dew."

"Welcome! welcome _home_, my dear Juliana!" exclaimed the doting mother.
"It's the first time, Mr. A., that she ever left me since she was 16, for
so long a period. I have had all the beds aired, and all the chairs
uncovered. She'll be a treasure to you, Mr. A., for a more tractable
creature was never vaccinated;" and here the mother overcame the orator,
and she wept again.

"My dear mother," said Agamemnon, "I have already had many reasons to be
grateful for my happy fortune. Don't you think she is browner than when we
left town?"

"Much, much!" sobbed the mother; "but the change is for the better."