“Yes,” said I, a gloom coming over my countenance. “I presume it is Drummond and Sarah whom you refer to?”
“Exactly.”
Tom then informed me that Mrs Drummond had sent for him, and asked a great many questions about me, and desired him to say that they were very glad to hear that I was well and comfortable, and hoped that I would call and see her and Sarah when I came that way. Mrs Drummond then left the room, and Tom was alone with Sarah, who desired him to say, that her father had found out that I had not been wrong; that he had dismissed both the clerks; and that he was very sorry he had been so deceived—“and then,” said Tom, “Miss Sarah told me to say from herself, that she had been very unhappy since you had left them, but that she hoped that you would forgive and forget some day or another, and come back to them; and that I was to give you her love, and call next time we went up the river for something that she wanted to send to you. So you perceive, Jacob, that you are not forgotten, and justice has been done to you.”
“Yes,” replied I, “but it has been too late; so let us say no more about it. I am quite happy as I am.”
I then told them of the pic-nic party of the next day, upon which Tom volunteered to take the other oar in my boat, as he would not be wanted while the barge was at the wharf. Old Tom gave his consent, and it was agreed he should meet me next morning at daylight.
“I’ve a notion there’ll be some fun, Jacob,” said he, “from what you say.”
“I think so, too; but you’ve towed me two miles, and I must be off again, or I shall lose my dinner; so good-bye;” I selected two other wherries in the course of the afternoon, and then returned home.
It was a lovely morning when Tom and I washed out the boat, and, having dressed ourselves in our neatest clothes, we shoved off in company with the two other wherries, and dropped leisurely down the river with the last of the ebb. When we pulled in to the stairs at Whitehall, we found two men waiting for us with three or four hampers, some baskets, an iron saucepan, a frying-pan, and a large tin pail with a cover, full of rough ice to cool the wines. We were directed to put all these articles into one boat; the others to be reserved for the company.
“Jacob,” said Tom, “don’t let us be kitchen; I’m togged out for the parlour.”
This point had just been arranged, and the articles put into the wherry, when the party made their appearance, Mr Tinfoil acting as master of the ceremonies.