CHAPTER XIV
THE PARABLE OF THE COCOANUT PIE
There was fluttering anticipation among the relatives as they gathered in the breakfast room the next morning and dallied with broiled kidneys and anchovy toast while awaiting Baxter's summons. Which came presently when Hiram, red-faced and genial of visage, opened the door.
"If you folks don't mind," he said, "I wish you'd join me in the library for a little friendly talk."
At last the great moment had come, and, one by one, the relatives passed through the hall into the room beyond, each showing in face and manner an overbubbling delight at the thought of the benefits they expected to receive from Cousin Hiram. And, one by one, they seated themselves in the stiff, high-backed chairs that were ranged along the wall. Baxter settled himself on the corner of the davenport and faced them. His eyes were cheerful, his smile was cordial; there was not the least indication of what was coming.
"Make yourselves comfortable, friends," began Hiram. "I've got a few things to say, and ye might as well take it easy."
There was a shifting of positions, a little expectant coughing, and then, just as Baxter was about to begin, Harriet Merle prodded Horatio, who was staring absentmindedly before him.
"Horatio!" she whispered.
The curate came to himself with a start, blinked rapidly behind his glasses, and then, remembering the duty his wife had put upon him, rose solemnly to his feet and, in his most clerical manner, addressed Hiram Baxter.
"Ahem! Mr. Baxter! In the name of the relatives gathered here, allow me to extend to you our most cordial welcome on this occasion of your return to England, together with the expression of our gratitude for your large and unfailing generosity in the past and—er—ahem!"