“Certainly, Cousin Lucia. I have baked three kinds of pies and have a cold joint in the larder. I calculate there will be food enough for all the Boojummers likely to land,” said Miss Sylvester with some stiffness of manner. She did not at all like suggestions from her cousin-mistress.
Up the quiet, shady street of Nantucket Town came the Boojummers. Mr. Reynolds led the way with Mr. Wing. Then came the stretcher bearers, Breck and Jack, the grinning Tim borne lightly between them. The others flocked around the point of interest not certain they should not have stayed away and let Tim have his home-coming without such a crowd, but when this had been suggested, Mr. Reynolds made so many protestations there was nothing to do but tag along.
“Well, when you come right down to it,” said Mabel, “I guess there isn’t anybody to leave out. Father must go to receive thanks for being near by with the ‘Boojum.’ Of course, Jack and Breck must go to carry Tim; Frances must go because she found him, and Jane must go because she helped carry him; Ellen must go to look after Jack, and—”
“And you and Charlie must go along to do the head work,” teased Jane.
“Exactly! Charlie must look after the legal aspect of the case and I must look after Charlie.”
“Here they come! Here they come!” cried Mrs. Reynolds, peeping through the living-room window.
“Yes, and it’s a good thing I baked three kinds of pies,” asserted Cousin Esther, grimly. “I’ll be bound Mr. Reynolds has invited them to dinner.”
“How pale my Tim looks! I’m afraid I’m going to cry, Cousin Esther, although I know how he hates for me to.”
“Don’t do it, Cousin Lucia, don’t do it! Remember Great-great-Aunt Patience who never shed a tear even when they brought home her three boys all drowned off Sankity. Here’s the smelling-salts. Now bear up!”