“Set right down to the table, Tim,” said Bill, unbending from his dignity a little, “an’ the rest of us will do the work; you’re the company, you know.”
Tim took the place of honor—the only armchair in the cabin—and was more than gratified to find that a seat had been placed close beside him for Tip, who had already jumped on it, sitting there looking as wise and hungry as a dog could look.
The entire boy portion of the population of Minchin’s Island had worked hard and earnestly to prepare this feast of welcome, and the result of their labors was the chowder, which was being served by the means of a cocoa-nut shell dipper, with a large hole in the side, that somewhat retarded the progress.
At last all were served, and those who could not find places at the table were seated on the sides of the berths, on trunks, fishing-tackle, or any available space, and the feast was begun.
Tip had his share in a saucer, and he ate it in as dignified a manner as the best-behaved dog could have done.
For several moments all gave their undivided attention to the chowder, which was not exactly as good as they were accustomed to at home, but which, being the product of their own labor, tasted better than anything they had ever eaten before.
Especially to Tim was it good, because of the spirit which prompted its manufacture, and because it was an evidence of their good-will to him. Tip rather turned his nose up at it, however. Since his arrival at Minchin’s Island he had been petted and fed by every boy in town, thanks to Bobby’s stories of his ability as a bear dog, until now it required something more than ordinary food to tempt his appetite.
But the feast was not the only way by which the boy who had come among them was to be honored, as Tim soon found out. A very elaborate programme had been arranged, and not one single detail was to be omitted.
Bill Thompson, with his mouth uncomfortably full, arose to his feet in such a clumsy manner that he upset what remained of Bobby’s chowder, very much to the disadvantage of the table-cloth and his trousers, and said, with some hesitation:
“Mr. Babbige, we fellers heard all about you last night from our esteemed feller-citizen, Mr. Bob Tucker, an’ we wanted to do something to show you what we thought of you.”