The Bishop's homily was cut short by a sharp cry in the hall, the patter of running steps,—and into the dining-room darted a red-haired child of six years, followed by a panting nurse, flushed and trembling, who held in one hand a discarded small slipper and silk sock.
Tiptoeing on his bare foot, the boy glanced swiftly around the circle, and sped to the chair where Miss Lindsay sat. With a gurgling laugh he threw himself against her, and pushing her chair slightly away from the table, she put one arm around and drew him close to her.
"Rex, go back with Bertha," said his mother, beckoning to the discomfited nurse who approached the table. Two little arms clung desperately, and the large blue eyes brimmed with tears, while a sweet, childish voice pleaded quaveringly:
"Oh, mamma, Miss 'Vota runs away before breakfast, and I must stay with her! I'm so afraid of that awful sea—and Jonah's whale and the Devil's fish—and slimy, pollywog, wriggling things that may catch her—and please, mamma darling, you know she's just my very onliest sweetheart!"
Devota leaned forward, and with the assistance of Captain Winstead lifted the boy to her lap.
"Mrs. Churchill, please let me keep him. He comes in with the other sweets, and I beg for him as my one special bonbon. Be gracious to me, will you not? I stand sponsor for his being 'seen and not heard.'"
Mrs. Churchill flushed, but instantly the Bishop raised his hand.
"Governor, veto that maternal sentence of banishment."
Governor Armitage smiled.
"This is the first time I have ever regretted the limitations of my veto prerogative, but in recognition of Rex's indubitable taste in selection of his 'onliest sweetheart,' I ask the privilege of signing Miss Lindsay's petition for retention of her loyal lover."