"Wait—wait," firmly. "Give yourself a moment to guess. But—guess something good."
Jamieson moved like a man in pain. "You mean, you mean——" he whispered. "Oh, Captain, I've waited and waited."
"Bravely—we all know that. And there's reward for you."
Behind Jamieson, the others were leaning forward, hopeful, fearful—in a fever of emotions.
The cheering outside had grown. More people were running up the walk—children, men, bareheaded women.
"Jamieson," said the captain, "you'll be very calm?"
Jamieson relaxed, faltering forward. "I'll try! I'll try!" he promised.
Lounsbury caught him. "Tell him, Oliver," he begged.
The captain turned the knob, took Jamieson by a wrist and led him out through the entry.
On the gallery was a second group. It whispered. It laughed. It cried. It looked north to where the road came down from the landing.