Alick Purbeck said, "How d'y," and passed on feeling well satisfied with himself. Deacon Walton's "Cal'late we'll have an early spring," the ladies cheerfully admitted. Sam Billings, dressed as he had never been dressed before, said, "Happy to meet yer," and then began a studied speech, but was dragged away before he got fairly started. Sam had been invited by Miss Sawyer. The difficulties which had made their wooing a thorn-strewn path had been cleared away, and once more Sam seemed, with some certainty of success, to be on the road to matrimony. When some one recently had attempted to joke him on the subject, he replied: "Seein' everybody's made up their minds that me and Lizzie was goin' to get married, we thought it would be too bad to disappoint 'em." Ezra Tweedie, poor, abused, dear little Ezra, was radiantly happy, and during the whole evening conducted himself in such a gentlemanly manner that, for the time being, he was the pride and joy of his crownless queen.
Then came the dinner. It was no Russian-tea-peanut-butter-frappé-affair—there were things to eat. As the good cheer went in, the good-will came out, reserve broke down, the murmur of voices grew louder, followed by laughter, hearty and spontaneous.
When the feasting was over, the toastmistress, Mrs. Tweedie, arose and graciously welcomed the other sex without using her favourite term. Then came the toasts, varied, many in number, and followed by long responses. At midnight the feast of good-will had not abated.
Barbara and Will, blissfully happy, wherever they might be, had enjoyed the evening more than any one else. From the beginning everybody vied with everybody else in bestowing upon them kind words and good wishes. They tried to slip away before the others, but Mrs. Stout hurried after them.
"What are you runnin' away for?" she demanded. "Has anybody been sayin' things?"
"No, indeed," replied Will, "not a word but kindness."
"More than we deserve," added Barbara.
"Nonsense; more than you deserve, the idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout, and then asked, wistfully, "Well, can you forgive us now? We've done all that we know how to do to make it right."
"Don't say 'we,' please, Mrs. Stout," said Barbara. "As for the others, I forgave them long—long ago."
"Bless you, dear child," replied Mrs. Stout, and then she looked about as though in search of something. "Goodness!" she exclaimed, "if I haven't lost Peter! Good night, if I don't find him pretty soon he'll be talkin' butter and eggs."