He must stay and take care of us and the station." "Yes," said Mrs Braydon sadly, as if she thought it would be of more consequence to take care of the doctor; and Nic was led into the house, after passing through a neatly kept, well fenced-in garden, full of trees, shrubs, and flowers new to him, though beyond a hedge there was a broad spread of homely old friends of a useful kind, growing luxuriantly.
He was ushered at once into a pleasant room, made bright, in spite of its extremely simple furnishing, by white dimity curtains and home-made mats, the bed in the corner looking white as snow; and, left to himself, the boy luxuriated in a comfortable wash, though in place of ewer and basin he had but a bucket and tub.
Before he had finished, his mother was back with a cup of refreshing tea, this time with cream.
"You'll find everything very rough, my son; but every time the waggon goes on its journey to the port it brings back same more domestic comforts." "Never mind the roughness, mother," cried Nic, kissing her, and bringing a smile of joy playing about her lips; "it's home, and I'm along with you all again." "Yes, my son; and I can be quite happy now," said Mrs Braydon, clinging to him fondly.

"There, drink your tea," she said quickly, "finish dressing, and there's a brush by the window, and I've brought you my glass.

How brown and blistered your poor face is!" "Oh, that's nothing, mother," cried Nic.

"Hah! delicious!" he sighed, as he finished the tea, making his mother smile her satisfaction.
"Be quick.

We have a tea-dinner ready, for we felt that you might come at any time.