The homeward trip of the Dolphin was a speedy and successful one. Her passengers, healthy and happy, enjoyed it greatly, yet were rejoiced when she cast anchor, one lovely morning, in the harbor near their homes, where they were wont to leave her, to travel the few remaining miles on land.

They had been expected at about that time, and Edward and Zoe Travilla were there to meet them. Grandma Elsie was the first to step on shore, and Edward caught her in his arms with a glad exclamation:

“Oh, mother, I am so rejoiced to have you at home again! We can’t do without you. We have missed you every day and every hour.”

“And I am very, very glad to be here with you all again,” she returned; “you among them, Zoe. Ah, Herbert, my son,” as at that moment he and Dr. Conly appeared on the scene, “your mother is rejoiced to see you also, looking so bright and well. You, too, Cousin Arthur,” giving a hand to him. “Are all the dear ones well?”

“Yes. And, oh! but we are glad to have you home again,” both physicians answered, then turned to welcome the others, who were stepping ashore.

It was a most affectionate greeting all round, even the little newcomer sharing in it. Then Edward said:

“Now, friends and cousins, we want you all at Ion for the rest of the day. A big enough dinner has been prepared, and every one of you will be as welcome as possible.”

“That is certainly very kind and hospitable in you, Brother Ned,” said Mrs. Leland, “but I really think we would better take ourselves and our luggage to our own homes first and visit you later on, a few at a time.”

“No, Elsie, dear,” he returned, “we have made the plans and preparations, and shall feel greatly disappointed if not permitted to carry out our scheme. Come one, come all, and let us have a jolly time together.”

Just then Chester Dinsmore came hurrying toward them, having just learned in his office of the arrival of the vessel. A joyous, affectionate greeting exchanged between him and Lucilla, his wife, he turned to the other returned travellers. Then Edward renewed his invitation, adding:

“I have been out to each one of your homes and seen that they are all in prime order for you, but told the caretakers that you were to dine with us at Ion first; therefore, they need not expect you until evening, or somewhere near it.”

“You are very kind, indeed, Brother Ned,” said Captain Raymond, “and if my wife and the others are willing to accept your advice—your most hospitable invitation—I shall be happy to do so.”

“I should like to,” said Violet; “but what about the baggage, et cetera?”

“Those things can all be sent out immediately to our homes and safely entrusted to the caretakers Brother Ned just spoke of,” said the captain.

All now accepted Edward’s invitation, entered the waiting carriages and were driven at once along the good and pleasant road to Ion. There they found a gathering of all the relatives in that region—Dr. Conly’s family, Calhoun’s also, Rose Croly, with her husband and children, the Dinsmores from the Oaks, the Laceys from the Laurels, Cousin Ronald and his Annis, Hugh and his wife and children. It was now nearly a year since Captain Raymond and his party had sailed away in the Dolphin, and the reunion of so many friends and relatives gave much undisguised pleasure.

It was a large company, but with nothing stiff or formal about it; there were many loving embraces and much cheerful, happy, familiar chat, and soon they gathered about the hospitable board to regale themselves with dainty and delicious fare, the meal enlivened by an interchange, suited to the occasion, of thoughts, feelings and experiences. There was a feast of reason and a flow of soul, accompanied by no gluttony or gormandizing.

Conversation and many courses kept them long at the table. But at length they left it and gathered in the parlors. They had not been there long when Laurie and Lily came in, bringing the tee-tees—the little monkeys belonging to Elsie and Ned Raymond. They were delighted to see their pets and thought the pleasure was mutual, though the older people had doubts concerning the evidences of pleasure given by the monkeys.

The nurse had had the care of Evelyn’s baby while the dinner was in progress, but now she brought it in and laid it in the mother’s lap while she should go and take her meal. Several of the cousins gathered about to look at the little one, and spoke admiringly of her appearance.

“She is a little beauty,” said more than one.

Then a weak little voice seemed to come from her lips:

“Don’t make me vain.”

“Oh, no, darling. You are too young for that,” laughed Grandma Elsie, “as well as too young to talk so wisely and well.”

“Yes, ma’am; but my papa helps me,” murmured the weak little voice, and everybody looked at Max and laughed.

“What a nice little truth-speaker you are, little niece,” said Lucilla, leaning over the babe and softly touching its cheek.

“I want to be that always, auntie,” replied the same little voice which had spoken before.

“Oh, what a good little thing you are,” laughed Ned. “I’m glad to be your uncle.”

“Tell him he’s too young and small to be of much use as an uncle,” said a voice that seemed to come from some one behind the group about the baby.

Instantly every head was turned to see who the speaker was. But he seemed to be invisible.

“Why, who said that?” exclaimed Ned.

“Oh, I know. It was you, Cousin Ronald.”

“Some people are wonderfully wise,” said Mr. Lilburn. “But really, now, did that sound like my voice?”

“Like one of them, I think,” laughed Ned. “You seem to have a good many; even more than Brother Max has.”

Ned had his tee-tee on his shoulder, and it seemed now to put in its word:

“Is that the way to talk to your old, old cousin?”

“Is that the way you talk to me, you saucy fellow?” laughed Ned, giving the tee-tee a little shake.

“There!” exclaimed Lily Travilla. “That’s the first time he’s spoken since we brought him away from Louisiana in the Dolphin.”

“I can’t talk when there’s nobody by to help me,” was the tee-tee’s next remark.

“And Cousin Ronald is helping you now, isn’t he?” asked Ned.

“Yes; and he’s good help.”

Elsie had Tiny on her shoulder, and she put in her word now:

“I think it’s my turn to talk a little. I’m glad my little mistress has come home, though I’ve had a good time on the yacht and here with these good folks.”

“I’m glad you have had a good time,” laughed Elsie, “and I promise you shall have a fine time at Woodburn, my home, where I’ll take you presently.”

“Will you let me run about on the porches and the grass and climb the trees?”

“Yes, indeed, as much as you like, if you won’t run away from your home,” answered Elsie, hugging and stroking her pet.

“Now, if aunts, uncles and cousins will step aside for a moment, her grandfather would like to take a peep at baby,” said Captain Raymond, coming up behind the group of children.

They all hastily stepped aside and he leaned over the babe and chirruped to it. It looked up into his face and laughed, as if it knew and cared for him.

“Ah, you really seem to know and approve of your grandpa,” he said laughingly. “Evelyn, my dear, she’s a darling, a pretty little pet.”

“So Max and I think, father,” returned the happy young mother.

“And so, I think I may say, do we all,” said old Mr. Dinsmore. “I should not at all object to counting her among my great-great-grandchildren.”

“Nor would we to having you do so, sir,” said Max, coloring and smiling with pleasure, for he was very proud of his little daughter and glad to have her admired by others.

“I am proud and fond of the little dear, call myself her uncle now, and hope to be really such one of these days,” laughed Harold.

“We all hope so,” said Max, “and have no objection to your claiming that relationship at once.”

There had been some alterations and improvements made in house and grounds since the Dolphin and her passengers started on that winter trip, and presently most of the company went about viewing them, and that with entire satisfaction and approval.

But the sun was now nearing the horizon, and the Woodburn and Sunnyside folk were growing eager to see and rest in their own loved and comfortable homes. The carriages were brought up, the adieus said, and they went on their way rejoicing. Each family went to its own dwelling at first, but they would not be long apart; that evening would see them all gathered, first at one residence, then at the other, and there would never be a day that would not be spent more or less in each other’s society. This would be true of all excepting Max, who must soon return to his ship. The thought of that was all that marred the happiness of that evening, with its joyful return to their own loved homes. But Evelyn and all of them tried to put away remembrance of it for the present.