Jamieson stepped forward. "Captain," he said with mock injury, "these people"—he indicated the others—"do not mark the flight of the minutes. I don't wonder—it's natural. But I, sir, I—having been asked to breakfast by Mrs. Oliver—do. Is—is breakfast ready?"
"Breakfast is ready," Oliver answered. His voice was unsteady.
"Thank goodness for that!"
There was the sound of a faint cheer outside; then someone went rushing up the plank walk before the house. The captain closed the windows.
"We shall give thanks for many things to-day," he said significantly.
Fraser started, and his eyelids fluttered what his face strove to control.
"What's all that outside?" It was Marylyn, innocently.
But Oliver gave a quick sign, pulling nervously at his moustache.
"Frank," he began, "a—a friend is coming home to us this morning."
"A-a-ah!" It was near a groan.