"There was no longer any doubt that he was safe in his old home; but
where were his brothers and sisters? With a beating heart he crept to
the other end of the bed; and there lay the prodigal, but with no
haggard cheeks or sunken eyes, no grey locks or miserable rags, but a
rosy yellow-haired urchin fast asleep, with his head upon his arm. 'I
took his pillow,' muttered Melchior, self-reproachfully.

"A few minutes later, young Hop-o'-my-Thumb (whom Melchior dared not
lose sight of for fear he should melt away) seated comfortably on his
brother's back, and wrapped up in a blanket, was making a tour of the
'barracks.'

"'It's an awful lark,' said he, shivering with a mixture of cold and
delight.

"If not exactly a _lark_, it was a very happy tour to Melchior, as,
hope gradually changing into certainty, he recognized his brothers in
one shapeless lump after the other in the little beds. There they all
were, sleeping peacefully in a happy home, from the embryo hero to the
embryo philosopher, who lay with the invariable book upon his pillow,
and his hair looking (as it always did) as if he lived in a high wind.

"'I say,' whispered Melchior, pointing to him, 'what did he say the
other day about being a parson?'

"'He said he should like to be one,' returned Hop-o'-my-Thumb; 'but
you said he would frighten away the congregation with his looks. And
then, you know, he got very angry, and said he didn't know priests
need be dandies, and that everybody was humbuggy alike, and thought of