“Eddy, bring that telegram to me,” said Anna; “bring it at once.”  And the boy finally obeyed.

Anna read the telegram and her nervous forehead relaxed.  “It is all right,” said she; then she read the message aloud.  It was dated New York, the night before: 

“Am in New York.  Shall take the first train home in the morning.”

“He sent it last night at eight o’clock, and we have only just got it,” said Ina.

“He is all right,” repeated Anna.

“Of course he is all right,” said Mrs. Carroll.  “Why doesn’t Marie bring in the eggs?  We have all finished the cereal?”

“Eggs!  Golly!” cried Eddy, slipping into his chair.

“Why, it must be time for him now!” Charlotte said, suddenly.

Arms looked at his watch.  “Yes, it is,” he agreed.

It was not long before Samson Rawdy drove into the grounds, and everybody sprang up at the sound of the wheels.

“There’s papa!” cried Eddy, and led the way to the door, slipping out before the others.

Carroll was engaged in a discussion with the driver.  He nodded his head in a smiling aside in response to the chorus of welcome from the porch, and went on conferring with the liveryman, who was speaking in a low, inaudible voice, but gesticulating earnestly.  Presently Carroll drew out his pocket-book and gave him some money.

“My!” said Eddy, in a tone of awe, “papa’s paying him some money.”

Still the man, Samson Rawdy, did not seem quite satisfied.  Something was quite audible here about the rest of the bill, but finally he smiled in response to Carroll’s low, even reply, raised his hat, sprang into his carriage, and turned round in a neat circle while Carroll came up the steps.

“Arthur, dear, where have you been?” asked his wife, folding soft, silken arms around his neck and putting up her smiling face for his kiss.  “We have not heard a word from you since you went away.”

“You got my telegram?” replied Carroll, interrogatively, kissing her, and passing on to his daughters.  Eddy, meantime, was clinging to one of his father’s hands and making little leaps upon him like a pet dog.

“Yes,” cried everybody together, “the telegram just came—­just a minute ago.”

Anna had kissed her brother, then stepped quietly into the house.  The others moved slowly after her.

“How are you, old man?” Carroll asked Major Arms.

“First rate,” replied Arms, grasping the proffered hand, yet in a somewhat constrained fashion.

“Why didn’t you write, Arthur dear?” Mrs. Carroll asked, yet not in the least complainingly or reproachfully.  On the contrary, she was smiling at him with the sweetest unreserve of welcome as she entered the dining-room by his side.

“Breakfast is getting cold, papa,” said Charlotte.  “Come right in.”

“We have got a bully breakfast.  No end to eat,” said Eddy, as he danced at his father’s heels.