“I’ll fix ye out in a minit,” said Ethan, hastily. “Here’s the widow, now. Mis’ Brown, can’t ye find a place for these folks? They want some o’ yer ice cream, an’ every one counts neow. Mebbe they’ll buy enough to get another plank or two for the walks.”
The hint was not to be lost, and speedily another table was prepared by placing two planks across some “horses,” and as soon as chairs had been brought, the party all seated themselves and were speedily served, Ethan himself taking one of the chairs upon Mr. Clarke’s invitation.
Miss Bessie whispered to Ben, who was seated beside her, that “it wasn’t ice cream at all, it was only frozen corn starch;” but whatever the name may have been, the dishes were speedily cleared, Ethan’s disappearing the most rapidly of all, as with heaping spoonfuls he swallowed the treat, apparently unmindful of its chilling temperature.
“I guess ye don’t get nothin’ better’n that deown to New York,” he remarked with satisfaction, as he glanced up at Mr. Clarke.
“We never have anything just like this,” replied Mr. Clarke, kindly. “Have some more, Ethan?”
“Thank ye, sir. I don’ mind if I do, if it’s all the same to you. Here!” he suddenly added, as if he had been struck with a sudden thought, “there’s some lemingade, too. It’s only three cents a cup, and I’ll stand treat for the crowd.”
“Permit me,” said Mr. Clarke, quickly; and “lemingade” was at once added to the replenished dishes.
“Your young people are to be congratulated, Ethan,” said Mr. Clarke, when all at last arose from the table. “You have quite a good-sized fund for your village improvements. Have you any idea how much they have made?”
“I don’t s’pose they can tell jest yet. Prob’ly fifteen or twenty dollars.”
“You can add this to the sum, with my compliments, then,” said Mr. Clarke, as he slipped a ten dollar bill into the astonished boatman’s hand.