Mrs. Codman was sitting in a little room opening out from the breakfast-room, which had been appropriated as a sort of study by Bert and herself.

Topsy, the kitten, who had not yet attained the sobriety and demureness of old cat-hood, was running round after her tail.

"Oh, dear," sighed Bert, who was puzzling over a lesson in geography, "I can't study any to-day."

"Why not?" asked Mrs. Codman.

"Oh, I feel so restless."

"That isn't very unusual, is it?" asked her governess, with a smile.

"I feel more so than usual. Something is going to happen, I know."

"Something does happen every day, doesn't there?"

"Well, you know what I mean; something out of the way. I shouldn't wonder if Charlie got home to-day."

"Heaven grant he may!" exclaimed his mother, fervently.

By a strange coincidence—and coincidences do sometimes happen in real life, though not quite so often, perhaps, as in stories,—Mrs. Codman had hardly given utterance to her wish when the bell rang.

Bert jumped from her seat.

"It is he, I know it is!" she exclaimed. "Do let me go to the door."

"You are very fanciful to-day, Bert," said Mrs. Codman. But she did not forbid her going. Bert's earnestness had given birth to a wild hope on her part, that it might be as she had fancied.

Before the loitering servant had a chance to reach the door, Bert had already opened it.

Bill Sturdy and Charlie stood on the steps, Charlie looking handsome and manly, with an eager look on his bright face. Sturdy, it must be owned, looked and felt a little awkward, not being accustomed to call as a visitor at houses as elegant as Mr. Bowman's.

"Oh! this is Charlie, isn't it?" exclaimed Bert, with childish delight, instinctively putting out her hand.

"What, do you know me?" asked Charlie, pleased with this cordial reception, but astonished at being recognized.

"Oh, yes."

"Is my mother here?"

"Yes; I will go and call her. But won't you come in?"

"I would rather you would call her," said Charlie, bashfully.

Bert danced back into the little study.

"I was right, Mrs. Codman," said she, triumphantly, "It is Charlie."

"Has he come?" asked the mother, precipitately, letting fall, as she rose, the astonished kitten, who had clambered into her lap. "Oh, where is he?"

"At the door."

Mrs. Codman waited for no more, but hastened to the door, and, in a moment, the mother was face to face with her lost boy. Of the delight of that meeting, of the numberless questions which each had to ask, with what fond pride the mother noted the increased manliness of Charlie, I cannot speak in detail. Both hearts were full to overflowing with love and gratitude.

Meanwhile Bert was endeavoring, in her way, to entertain Bill Sturdy, who, though no man was braver or more self-reliant among his comrades, felt abashed in the presence of Bert, whom he looked upon as made of finer clay than himself. And, indeed, the beauty and sprightliness of the child made her look like a charming picture, and even Charlie's eyes could not help straying to her, from time to time, while he was talking with his mother.

Bill was perched upon an elegant chair, scarcely daring to rest his whole weight upon it, for fear it might give way under him, swinging his hat awkwardly in his hand.

"You are Bill Sturdy, are you not?" said Bert, determined to become better acquainted.

"How do you know that is my name?" asked Bill, half fancying she must have learned it in some supernatural way.

"Oh, Charlie wrote about you in his letter."

"Did his mother get a letter from him, then?"

"Yes; it was from some place with a hard name. I never can remember those geography names."

"Was it Rio Janeiro?"

"Yes; that was it. What an awful time he must have had! Do you like going to sea?"

"Yes, miss; I feel more at home on the sea than on the land."

"You do! Well, that's funny. I know I should be sea-sick, and that must be horrid."

"Well, it doesn't feel very pleasant," said Bill, with a smile.

"Oh, Mr. Sturdy, did you ever see a whale?"

"Yes, miss, plenty of them."

"I suppose you never came near being swallowed by one—like Jonah, you know?"

"No, miss; I don't think I should like that."

"What lots of adventures you must have had! You must stay to dinner, and afterwards you can tell me of some."

"I don't think I could, thank you, miss, all the same," said Bill, alarmed at the suggestion. "Not but I'd be glad to spin you a yarn some time."

Just then Charlie bethought himself of his companion.

"Mother," said he, "you must let me introduce to you my good friend, Bill Sturdy. You don't know how kind he has been to me."

"I am quite ready to believe it," said Mrs. Codman, holding out her hand quickly.

Bill took it shyly in his.

"I thank you most heartily for all you have done for my dear boy," said she.

"Anybody that wasn't a brute would have done as much, ma'am."

"Then I am afraid there are a great many brutes in the world."

Charlie stopped to dinner, but Bill could not be prevailed upon to do so. "You see, my boy," he explained to Charlie, "it don't come nat'ral; I shouldn't know how to behave. So I'll just go back to my boardinghouse, and you'll find me there after dinner."