And indeed it was all right. The table presented a beautiful sight, charming to the eye and tempting to the palate. An enormous turkey, browned to a crisp, occupied the center of the table; mounds of mashed white potatoes and roasted sweet potatoes, and dishes of cranberries moulded into the most incomprehensible shapes—all looked so clean and sweet that they must have tempted the most jaded appetite. A row of mince pies flanked on either side by delicious looking pumpkin pies, suggested that the diners were expected to do some very serious work before their day’s labor was finished.
“Now all hands be seated,” cried the Captain; “but don’t dare to eat a mouthful until I give the signal.”
He had scarcely finished this caution when the door opened, and Herbert entered, accompanied by his mother; and then there were such cheers and shouts and such laughter and such crying as had never been heard before in this old room since its first walls had been constructed.
Herbert was literally made speechless by amazement. His mother, with feminine instinct, took refuge in tears; but Herbert soon recovered his voice and his mother soon dried her tears, and very quickly the clatter of knives and forks and the din of conversation and the ripple of never-ending laughter set everyone at ease.
Tomlin, in a spirit of mischief, had set Herbert Harkins and Mary Black side by side, and during the dinner the two young people were made the subject of many good natured jests; but Mary’s sweet countenance glowed with happiness, and when Herbert stooped down to speak to her once during the dinner her cheeks crimsoned in the most beautiful manner imaginable.
Some philosopher—if he wasn’t a philosopher he should have been one—has said that it never rains but it pours. So it was on this festive occasion. The first shower came with the announcement that within six months Herbert would be given the coveted post of Washington correspondent of the Argus—that he should join the company of the very aristocracy of American journalism. The next came with the statement that Blakeley—good-hearted, blustering Blakeley—had been made the managing editor of the Argus, and that Tomlin would succeed him in the responsible position of city editor of that journal. At this announcement Herbert seized the hand of his friend and wrung it with such fervor that his old room-mate cried for mercy. After that John Black informed the assembled company of the selection of his son Arthur as the cashier and confidential man of his newly established bank at Cleverly.
Captain Janson was given the floor then, and amid many elaborate sea phrases and involved sentences he proclaimed Herbert Harkins as his adopted son and heir.
Near the close of the dinner, Herbert arose and with trembling lips and swelling heart announced that the noblest girl in the whole world had just promised to become his wife; and although he mentioned no name, every eye turned instinctively towards Mary, who finding herself singled out from all the others, blushed desperately and shrank shyly beneath the united gaze of the company for all the world like a sweet little violet whose hiding place has been discovered by a sudden burst of glaring sunlight.
PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHERS, NEW YORK