'Wont they all turn to rats and pumpkins?' whispered Clara to Louis.

'Bless the poor boy!' cried Mrs. Frost, between laughing and crying,
'what has he been about? Does he think I am the Sheriff's lady
still?'

The party entered the carriage, and the crowd of little boys and
girls, flymen and porters, got up another 'hurrah!' as the four
horses went thundering off, with Mrs. Frost apologizing--'Poor
Oliver's notions were on such a grand scale!--He had been so long
absent, that he did not know how much these things had been disused.'
But no one could look at her bright tearful eyes, and quivering
mouth, without seeing that she exulted in her son's affection and his
victory; and after all it was natural to her, and a resumption of old
habits.

They drove through two miles of brown flat heath, with far-away
mountain outlines, which she greeted as dear friends. Here and there
the engine-house of a mine rose up among shabby buildings, and by-
and-by was seen a square church-tower, with lofty pinnacles, among
which floated forth a flag. The old lady caught hold convulsively of
Clara's hand--'The old church!--My old church!--See, Clara, that is
where your dear grandfather lies!--My last home!'

With brimming eyes Mrs. Frost gazed on it as it came forth more
distinctly, and Clara looked with a sense of awe; but rending her
away from grave thoughts, shouts burst upon her ears, and above them
the pealing crash of all the bells, as they dashed under a splendid
triumphal arch, all evergreens and dahlias, forming the word