They were there, as Georgianna had said. Mr. Thomas on the top step, Heman and Simpson on the next lower, and behind them Abel Leonard and a group of interested volunteers, principally recruited from the back room of the barber shop.
“Evenin', gentlemen,” said the captain, opening the door so briskly that Mr. Thomas started backward and came down heavily upon the toes of the devoted Tad. Mr. Simpson swore, Mr. Thomas clawed about him to gain equilibrium, and the dignity of the group was seriously impaired.
“Evenin',” repeated Captain Cy. “Quite a surprise party you're givin' me. Come in.”
“Cyrus,” began the Honorable Atkins, “we are here to claim—”
“Give me my daughter, you robber!” demanded Thomas, from his new position in the rear of the other two.
“Mr. Thomas,” said Heman, “please remember that I am conducting this affair. I respect the natural indignation of an outraged father, but—ahem! Cyrus, we are here to claim—”
“Then do your claimin' inside. It's kind of chilly to-night, there's plenty of empty chairs, and we don't need to hold an overflow meetin'. Come ahead in.”
The trio looked at each other in hesitation. Then Mr. Atkins majestically entered the dining room. Thomas and Simpson followed him.
“Abe,” observed Captain Cy to Leonard, who was advancing toward the steps, “I'm sorry not to be hospitable, but there's too many of you to invite at once, and 'tain't polite to show partiality. You and the rest are welcome to sit on the terrace or stroll 'round the deer park. Good night.”
He closed the door in the face of the disappointed Abel and turned to the three in the room.