“Good-by, my dear,” said Mrs. Jackson, kissing Nancy, who was the last one, except Jim, to get into the machine. “I hope you will be able to come again, and very soon.”
“I’m not going to say good-by,” said Mr. Jackson, when they got out of the car at Miss Ashton’s apartment. “I hate the word, anyway; so I’ll just say ‘good night and see you in the morning.’”
“What did he mean?” asked Nancy, as she and Jim walked up the steps together.
“I don’t know exactly,” replied Jim. “Dad is a bit soft-hearted, though you’d never guess it to judge by his size and appearance; and, as he said, he never likes to bid people good-by.”
“Soft-hearted,” thought Nancy. “Like father, like son. That is where Jim gets his big heart from. His mother is charming, but much more practical. I like both of them, but I fancy his father and I will be more especially chummy.”
The supper party was a hilarious affair. Everybody felt very gay, and Griff quite outdid even himself. He insisted upon setting the table, but Jeanette had to follow him around, correcting his errors of omission and commission. The table had built-in benches on either side of it, instead of chairs, and the space between was very narrow. On one of his trips around the table, he slipped and fell, scattering a handful of silver in all directions. He could not, or pretended he could not, extricate himself; and the other two boys had to go to his rescue. With much laughter and difficulty they succeeded in getting him out, and gathering up the silverware.
“Now,” said Martha firmly, taking him by the arm and leading him to a chair in the living room, “just come right in here and sit down. And don’t you dare stir until you are called.”
She left him sobbing noisily, his face buried in his handkerchief.
When the other two boys had finished setting the table, and supper was ready to serve, they went to call Griff; and they found him, spread out in the big chair, sound asleep.
“Let’s leave him there,” suggested the hard-hearted Martha.