And—well—Elsie thought she could.
The consideration—we suppose it was the consideration—took so long that it was nearly dark when Elsie announced that she simply MUST go. It was Ralph's duty as a gentleman to help her in putting on her coat, and this took an astonishingly long time. Finally it was done, however, and they came downstairs.
“Dearest,” said Ralph, after the door was locked, “I forgot to have another hunt for whatever it was that Captain Eri wanted me to get.”
Elsie smiled rather oddly.
“Are you sure you haven't got it?” she asked demurely.
“Got it! Why—why, by George, what a numbskull I am! The old rascal! I thought there was a twinkle in his eye.”
“He said he should come back after me.”
“Well, well! Bless his heart, it's sound and sweet all the way through. Yes, I HAVE got it, and, what's more, I shall tell him that I mean to keep it.”
The gold watches from the people to the heroes of the Orham wreck having been duly bought and inscribed and the medals struck, there came up the question of presentation, and it was decided to perform the ceremony in the Orham town hall, and to make the occasion notable. The Congressman from the district agreed to make the necessary speech. The Harniss Cornet Band was to furnish music. All preparations were made, and it remained only to secure the consent of the parties most interested, namely, Captain Eri and Luther Davis.
And this was the hardest task of all. Both men at first flatly refused to be present. The Captain said he might as well go to the dime museum and be done with it; he was much obliged to the Boston folks, but his own watch was keeping good time, and he didn't need a new one badly enough to make a show of himself to get it. Captain Davis said very much the same.