Once more with his friends he reached his old home and was received with that greeting which he never met with elsewhere.

He saw his father and mother standing on the wide portico before the others with outstretched arms, affection and pride beaming in their faces.

He witnessed their cordial greeting of his friends.

"Our son's friends are our friends," he heard them say.
Henry Trelane said afterwards, "Why, Livingstone, you have told me of your home and your horses, but never told me of your father and mother.
Do you know that they are the best in the world ?" Somehow, it had seemed to open his eyes, and the manner in which his friends had hung on his father's words had increased his own respect for him.

One of them had said, "Livingstone, I like you, but I love your father." The phrase, he remembered, had not altogether pleased him, and yet it had not altogether displeased him either.