"I don't mind now. Your return makes up for all the misfortunes. We will have enough for some bouquets to-day;" and Hal's face was one grateful smile.
"And what will we have for dinner?" asked Dot. "It ought to be a feast. I wonder if Kit will get home in time? Oh, I'll tell you! we will not have our dinner until about three."
"Sensible to the last, Dot. Why, it is almost ten now; and our breakfasts have just been swallowed."
"We will have some chickens," exclaimed Hal.
"And a cranberry pie."
"Who is to make it,—you, or Hal?" laughed Joe. "He used to be my very dear Mrs. Betty. I don't know how we should ever have lived without him. Hal, I must confess that there's some rare good fortune in store for me. I had to stop a while in New York; and to think I should stumble over one of the very men who was last to leave 'The Argemone.' And he tells such a marvellous story! I suppose every thing looked different out there in the storm and darkness and night, with death staring us in the face; for, after all, I only did my duty, and our poor captain lying sick too! I don't mean ever to go very far away while—while Granny lives; but there's nothing like the sea for me!"
"Oh!" exclaimed Hal, with a soft little sigh.
"Well, the upshot of it was, that they, the owners, and this Mr. Parker, made me take a little gift,—five hundred dollars. I know where I can get enough more to build a real green-house. You see, the fall off the hay-wagon did for you; and you'll never be a great hulking fellow like me, fit to take the rough and tumble of life."
Hal clasped the arm that was thrown protectingly around him.