"What makes you say that?"

"You called me 'little un' just in your old way, and I can feel that, with all the worry and disappointment gone now, you'll be able to get well."

Emson was silent for a few minutes, and then he said softly:

"Yes: I feel as if I can get better now; not that I care for the riches for riches' sake, d.y.k.e, but because--Are you listening, little un?"

d.y.k.e was fast asleep, and a few minutes later Emson was sleeping too, and dreaming of faces at home in the old country welcoming him back, not for the sake of the wealth he brought, but because he was once more a hale, strong man.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

THE CHANGE THAT CAME.

"It's to-morrow morning, little un."

d.y.k.e did not stir, but he seemed to hear the words.

"Do you hear, little un? Tumble up and bustle. Let's have a comfortable meal when he joins us. Do you hear, sir? Are you going to sleep all day?"

Certainly he was not, for d.y.k.e had sprung up, and was staring across the place at where, half-turned from him, Emson lay gazing at the golden east, where the sun was about to rise.

"Little un: are you going to get up?"

d.y.k.e sprang from his bed, darted to his brother, caught him by the shoulder and pulled him round so as to look him in the face.

"What's the matter, sleepy head?" said Emson, smiling.

"Why, it's himself again," cried d.y.k.e excitedly. "Oh Joe, old man, you are better and no mistake. I haven't heard you speak like that since I went to old Morgenstern's.--Oh!"

"What is it?" cried Emson.

"I'm not quite awake yet. Yes I am, but I forgot that he was here, and about the diamonds; and--Joe, Joe, old chap, I don't believe precious stones ever did so much good before."

"Don't talk about them, boy," said Emson, holding his brother's hand tightly in his. "But I do seem as if a terrible load had been taken off body and brain. I feel this morning that I shall see home again; and I have talked about going, but never felt that I should see it till now."

"Then hooray for being rich! But, I say!"

"What?"

"Suppose any one one should come and rob us now."

Emson laughed aloud.

"The first trouble that attends wealth, little un. There, we've borne sorrow and disappointment like men."

"Man and boy, Joe."

"Like men, d.y.k.e, for you have been a better man than I. Now then, we'll bear prosperity, please G.o.d, as patiently and well."

"Why, of course," cried d.y.k.e; "but what did you do with the jolly old stones?"

"Put them in your bowl, and then in the case. Now see that the breakfast is got ready. I'm far better, but I feel too weak to help."

"Ah, but you won't long, if you go on like this," cried d.y.k.e, dressing hurriedly, and beginning to have his morning wash in the bucket. "I say Joe, though, let's have some luxuries, now, as soon as we can. What do you say to a wash-hand basin?"

"Oh yes, we'll have that."

"And a sponge? Here, I say: I wonder whether old Morningstar has got any sponges: we'll buy one. New boots, too: mine are getting like Paddy's ride in the sedan-chair; I'm on the ground."

"All in good time, little un; all in good time: the first thing now is breakfast for our good old visitor."

"Ah, we'll have another spoonful of coffee in the pot this morning, Joe."

The old trader met them at breakfast and smiled as he shook hands.

"Ach ten!" he cried, "but you haf geschlafen wohl, mein vrient. Der beace of mind is a goot ding. You are besser. You need not speak, for your eyes are delling me all der dime what dey d.i.n.k, bube."

"I'm sure he's better," said d.y.k.e eagerly.

"Und he vill zoon be guite himselfs again. I zee you half been do mein oxen, Van d.y.k.e."

"Oh yes, I had a look at them; they were feeding well."

"Ja; die poys dell me zo. Now I go do ask you do let me shday dill do-morrow, und den die peasts vill pe rested, und I go on again."

"Don't hurry, Herr Morgenstern," said Emson. "You and I must have a long talk about--about--"

"Die shdones? Nein, mein good vrient, you go do zay you must share zom mid me, but I zhall dake none. Look at me: I am zeventy jahrs alt, und I have blenty do leave my old vomans ven I die, zo should I dake what vill do you zo much good?"

"But we owe everything to you."

"Nein. It ist not zo. You have work hart, und you have got your goot dimes ad last. You keep vot you haf found. I zhall dake noding bood die hant of mein vrients."

"Oh, but you ought to have a good share, Herr Morgenstern," cried d.y.k.e.

"Ach ten! what for you go shpeak like dot, you bube. You wand to make me gross, und get in a big pa.s.sion. Tunder! No, I vill dot dake von shingle shdone. You shpeak again, I go away in a gross anger. Aha! you see, mein vrient Yoseph, I zoon zed die dot imbudend bube, who go to shpoil my breakfa.s.s. I do not wand my breakfa.s.s shpoil. You oondershtan. You say diamont again, I gall my poys, und inspan und go away."

He frowned, as if he meant all he said, went on eating fiercely for a few moments, and then with his mouth full:

"I have blenty," he cried, "und I am glad you have blendy, doo. Now, von vort, von leedle vort, und I haf done. You dake a long shdocking und pud die shdones in, and den you vind all you gan. You make mooch as you gan before die beoble gom. It is got to be know dot dere are blenty diamonts in der veldt, und tousands und tousands gom to vind. Vell, you are virst; you pick oop all you gan pefore dey gom, und nopody know, for you shoot oop your mouth and hold your dongue. Wise man don't cry 'Look here!' when he vind. He go und vind again, eh? Dot is all, und I have enshoy der bess breakfa.s.s I effer vas haf."

"But, really, Morgenstern."

"Oof! I am going to get in soch a big pa.s.sion!" roared the old man furiously. "I gom here und vind you all down in die doomps. I gif you vizzick do make you shdrong, und I dell you you are ridge mans; und now you vill not led me haf any beace. I haf not mooch hair left upon mein het: do you vant me to dear it all oud; zo as mein old vomans zhall nod know me when I go pack?"

"No, no, no; but--"