Fifteen minutes later Hezekiah stood looking about him with wondering eyes.
“Well, well, Abby, ain’t this slick?” he cried.
His wife did not reply. The mirrors, the lights, the gleaming silver and glass had filled her with a delight too great for words. She was vaguely conscious of her husband, of Mr. Livingstone, and of a smooth-shaven little man in gray who was presented as “Mr. Harding.” Then she found herself seated at that wonderful table, while beside her chair stood an awesome being who laid a printed card before her. With a little ecstatic sigh she gave Hezekiah her customary signal for the blessing and bowed her head.
“There!” exulted Livingstone aloud. “Here we--” He stopped short. From his left came a deep-toned, reverent voice invoking the divine blessing upon the place, the food, and the new friends who were so kind to strangers in a strange land.
“By Jove!” muttered Livingstone under his breath, as his eyes met those of Jim across the table. The waiter coughed and turned his back. Then, the blessing concluded, Hezekiah raised his head and smiled.
“Well, well, Abby, why don’t ye say somethin’?” he asked, breaking the silence. “Ye hain’t said a word. Mr. Livin’stone’ll be thinkin’ ye don’t like it.”
Mrs. Warden drew a long breath of delight.
“I can’t say anythin’, Hezekiah,” she faltered. “It’s all so beautiful.”
Livingstone waited until the dazed old eyes had become in a measure accustomed to the surroundings, then he turned a smiling face on Hezekiah.
“And now, my friend, what do you propose to do after luncheon?” he asked.