And on February 9th--alas! I have need to remember the date!--she formally received her name.

We all dined at John's house--Dr.and Mrs.Jessop, my father and I.
It was the first time my father had taken a meal under any roof but his own for twenty years.

We had not expected him, since, when asked and entreated, he only shook his head; but just when we were all sitting down to the table, Ursula at the foot, her cheeks flushed, and her lips dimpling with a house-wifely delight that everything was so nice and neat, she startled us by a little cry of pleasure.

And there, in the doorway, stood my father! His broad figure, but slightly bent even now, his smooth-shaven face, withered, but of a pale brown still, with the hard lines softening down, and the keen eyes kinder than they used to be; dressed carefully in his First-day clothes, the stainless white kerchief supporting his large chin, his Quaker's hat in one hand, his stick in the other, looking in at us, a half-amused twitch mingling with the gravity of his mouth--thus he stood--thus I see thee, O my dear old father! The young couple seemed as if they never could welcome him enough.

He only said, "I thank thee, John," "I thank thee, Ursula;" and took his place beside the latter, giving no reason why he had changed his mind and come.