Boxy and Andy spent a good bit of the time over their toilet, and it must be confessed that Jack and Harry did the same.
“We are not fit for a city party, but I guess we look well enough for this country affair,” remarked Jack. “Our clothing is clean, and when we wash and comb up we’ll pass in a crowd.”
It was decided not to move camp until the following day, and a rude shelter was constructed under the trees, where the traps were hidden. It was not likely that they would return to the spot until nearly sunrise.
The party was expected to arrive at the farmhouse up the lake at about eight o’clock, and at half-past seven the boys set out for the place, without taking the trouble to replenish the campfire.
They had been given minute directions concerning the road, and had no difficulty in reaching their destination.
As they came in sight of the farmhouse, which was lit up from cellar to garret, they saw that the sleigh loads of relatives and neighbors had just arrived. They hurried in, and a few minutes later were introduced all around.
“Make yourselves at home,” said Henry Akers, Sarah’s husband. “I’ve heard o’ the service you did my father-in-law, and I am as thankful as he is that his barn wasn’t burnt down.”
The fiddler and the harpist were stationed in a corner of the broad hallway, and the sitting-room and the kitchen had been cleared for dancing. Soon the lively strains of a Virginia reel broke the ice all around and set everybody to talking and laughing.
“Choose partners fer the reel!” shouted the master of ceremonies, a village dandy, who had a chrysanthemum as large as a saucer stuck in his buttonhole.
“Good gracious, I can’t dance!” whispered Andy, and off he ran to a corner and was soon talking and laughing with a crowd of boys and girls. Boxy joined him, and they managed to have a real good time until supper.