Dan stood as if in a dream during this conversation. His eyes remained
fixed upon Nellie's face. Could it be possible that this was the woman he
had rescued, and who had spoken so kindly to him? It was the same, there
could be no mistake, only now she seemed more beautiful than ever. He felt
her soft hand pressing his rough, brown one, and heard her hearty welcome.
Words would not come to his lips. He was like a dumb person. But his eyes
noted much, especially the dining-room, with the table spread, the white
cloth and wonderful dishes. He had never seen anything like them before.

And good reason was there for Dan's wonder. Others too would have looked
with admiration upon that scene had they been present. Everything in the
room bespoke Nellie's gentle care, from the spotless table-linen to the
well-polished, old-fashioned sideboard, a relic of the stirring Loyalist
days. Several portraits of distinguished divines adorned the walls, while
here and there nature scenes, done in water-colours, by whose hand it was
easy to guess, were artistically arranged.

Nellie's devotion to her father was beautiful to behold. Her eyes sparkled
with delight as he related several amusing incidents of his visit to a
sick parishioner in an outlying district.

"And how did you find Mr. Stickles?" she inquired.

"'Simply joggin', parson, simply joggin,'" came the reply, at which the
fair hostess laughed heartily.

"And I suppose Mrs. Stickles is as jolly as ever?"

"Oh, yes. She is just the same. Poor soul! she has her hands full with her