As they approached the door of number fifteen, they heard a burst of laughter from inside. Mrs. Flemming laughed too.
“Evidently he isn’t having a very dismal evening,” she said. “What can they be doing in there?”
“That remains to be seen,” said the doctor, as his knock interrupted a fresh shout.
There was a chorus of “come in” from several voices, and the doctor, throwing the door wide open, appeared on the threshold, with Mrs. Flemming at his side. There was an instant of perfect silence, while the astonished boys gazed at the doctor who was no frequent visitor in their rooms, and the doctor’s eyes roved from the loaded table to the remarkable guests who were seated about it. However, before the pause had lasted long enough to be embarrassing, Harry came to his senses and, shaking his head at Stanley, who was plucking wildly at his feathers without being able to remove them, he sprang up, went to the door and invited the unexpected guests to come in and have a share in the feast. The doctor accepted, with a manifest enjoyment of the fun, and while his wife was laying aside her wraps, two more chairs were brought in, and Harry led Mrs. Flemming to the table, as Jack rose and offered his arm to the doctor. If the fun had been great before, it was perfect and complete now, for the Flemmings entered into the frolic as heartily as did their young hosts, tasting all the goodies and laughing at all the jokes with as much enthusiasm as if they had been fourteen, instead of forty. They had not spent twelve years in work among boys to no purpose, and they understood just how to meet them on their own ground without loss of dignity or lessening of influence. Suddenly the doctor rose to his feet, with a glass of lemonade in his hand.
“I call on you all to drink a toast with me,” he said; “in honor of one of our boys who, although almost the youngest present, has yet shown himself a true knight and soldier, by his patience in bearing a trouble that would have made too many of us fretful and unhappy. I drink to the health and happiness of the guest of the evening, Leon Arnold.”
A wild burst of applause and a clinking of glasses followed the toast. Then came the cry,—
“Speech! Speech!”
But, for a moment, Leon was speechless. The unexpected praise from the doctor had touched him keenly, and brought the hot blood to his cheeks and a lump into his throat. However, the boys were determined to have a response from him, so he controlled himself with an effort, stood up and began falteringly,—
“I thank you all for the spread, and for the toast, and for making my birthday such a jolly one that I shall always remember it. You’ve all been so good to me, since I sprained my ankle, that I haven’t minded it much, now honestly, and—and—and—” Leon hesitated for a minute, in the hope of further inspiration; then added desperately, “and please take some more grub.”
It was scarcely the ordinary form for an after-dinner speech; but it was sincere enough to make up for any other faults, and the boys received it with acclamation, while Mrs. Flemming said to Harry, as she helped herself to another piece of the birthday cake,—