One morning at breakfast Uncle Titus said, "My dear Ninette, our last week is drawing near.

What should you say if we put off going home, another fortnight?
I feel remarkably well here, no dizziness at all, and an extraordinary increase of strength in my legs!" "You show it in your looks, my dear Titus--" said his wife tenderly, "you look ten years younger, at the very least, than when we came here." "And to my mind, this way of living has done you a world of good too, my dear Ninette;" replied he, "It seems to me that you find much less to lament over of late." "Everything is so different," she answered; "It seems to me that everything has changed.

The noise of the children even doesn't seem the same, now that I know each one of them.

I must say that I am very glad that we didn't leave here that first week; I feel the loss of something pleasant now when I do not hear the children's voices, and I am always a little uneasy if it is perfectly quiet in the garden." "It is just so with me," said Uncle Titus, "and I cannot get through an evening with any satisfaction unless that bright boy has been in to see me, full of impatience to tell me what he has been about during the day, and eager to hear the enigmas I have to give him.

It is a perfect pleasure to have such a young fellow about one." "My dear Titus, you are growing younger every day.