They were all assembled in the library before dinner, tired with laughing and roaming about, tired of rowing over the sunny waters, and glad to rest a little before the important business of dining should commence.

Suddenly there was a bustle in the hall, followed by a loud good-natured voice that made Elizabeth start to her feet.

"It's my cousin Tom," she cried. "Grantley, Tom Fuller has come."

She rushed into the hall, and sure enough, there stood her cousin; sunburned, a little thin from sea-sickness, but the same droll old Tom as ever.

He caught Elizabeth in his arms and uttered his first incoherent expressions of delight when Mellen came up, and Tom commenced shaking his two hands with immense energy, as if they had been pump handles, and nothing but the greatest exertion on his part could save the ship.

"I'm so glad to see you!" he cried. "I'm so glad to get back. I declare I can't say a word."

"And I'm glad; very, very glad," replied Elizabeth.

"And we congratulate you heartily on your new fortune," said the widow, joining in and extending both hands.

"Oh, don't speak of it," cried Tom; "it's no end of a bother to me already. God bless you, I don't know what to do with it! How—how is your sister?" he stammered, addressing Mellen with desperate energy; for Elsie's name came up from his heart with a jerk.

"She is quite well," Mellen answered, "and will be charmed to see you; we were expecting you."

"That's nice of you. So you've only just got back! Well, it's good to get home, isn't it? that is, if I had any home—but it's dreary for a solitary chap like me, now isn't it?"

"This house will always seem like home to you, I hope," said Mellen, kindly.

"Always," added Elizabeth; "don't forget that, Tom."

"You're too good to me," cried the soft-hearted fellow; "you always were!"

"Of course they were," said a laughing voice, that made Tom start, and appeared to take every particle of strength out of his limbs.

Elsie suddenly appeared before Tom in her brilliant evening dress and cloud-like loveliness, reducing him to a pitiable state at once.

"Don't you intend to speak to me?" pursued Elsie.

"Of—of course!" said Tom. "I'm so glad to see you—will you shake hands—will you—be—be glad to see me?"

"There is my hand," replied Elsie; "the pleasure depends on how agreeable you make yourself. I suppose you have come back with such fine foreign manners that you will hardly deign to notice us poor plain untravelled people."

"Oh, you don't think that!" said Tom. "You are laughing at me just as usual."

"Did you bring me my bracelet?" demanded Elsie.

"Indeed I did; I'd have brought all Paris if I had thought it would please you."

Elizabeth now plainly thought poor Tom had returned no wiser than when he went away; but Mellen, man-like, never perceived the state in which Elsie's fascinations had thrown the honest fellow, and would not have thought seriously of the matter if he had.

"Of course you speak French like a native—Iroquois, I mean," pursued the pitiless Elsie.

"Just about," replied Tom, as ready as ever to laugh at his own blunders.

"So you did not forget the bracelet?" urged Elsie.

"Indeed I did not; it's in my carpet-bag."

"Then I will be good natured to you all the evening," said she, "and won't tease you the least mite."

Tom was quite in ecstasies at the prospect; but Mellen said:

"She can't keep her promise, no matter how hard she tries—don't trust her, Fuller."

Elsie made a gesture of playful menace and carried Tom off into the drawing-room, quite regardless of the fact that Elizabeth had, as yet, found hardly an opportunity of speaking to him.

Mrs. Harrington was excessively cordial to the new comer; as a poor man she had always liked Tom for his extreme good-nature and willingness to wait on her caprices to any extent; but now that he made his appearance in the character of a semi-millionaire, it was perfectly natural that she should look upon him in a totally different light, being of the world, worldly.

Tom's awkwardness would only be a pleasant eccentricity now; his unfortunate taste in dress must pass readily as the carelessness of wealth, and all his good qualities, which had been quite overshadowed during his days of poverty, would now be brought to the foreground with glowing tints.

Not that Tom ever thought of this result to his heirship, he was too unsuspicious even for a thought of the kind. When people bestowed more interest on him than before, he would only wonder at their kindness and think what a pleasant world this was after all, and what scores of good-natured people there were in it, despite of the grumblers and misanthropes.

Elsie kept her word; she did not tease Tom in the least, but deliberately bewildered him with her arts and coquetry—which set Elizabeth to wondering what her motive could be—but perhaps she had none at all, and was only obeying the whim of the moment.

Tom produced the gold humming-bird for Elsie's hair, and a lovely little ornament it was, with the gorget in its throat composed of emeralds and rubies, and the long, slender bill and delicate wings formed of the most beautiful enamel.

Elsie perched it among her curls and was happy as a child with her new toy. Nobody in the world was ever so much delighted with novel ornaments, and few persons ever allowed the gloss to wear off them so quickly. In all probability she would rave over Tom's gift for a week, and by that time, if she did not lose it, would break the wings, by way of amusement, or tear the bill off to make the point of a stiletto, or ruin it in some other way, just to gratify her caprice, and an odd love of destruction which was in her very nature.

Tom Fuller spent the first happy evening he had known for months at Piney Cove, and he was so deliciously good-natured and noisy in his pleasure, that he could have supplied any lack of merriment on the part of the other guests if it had been necessary. But it was not.