The well-worn arguments on the questions of the day were threshed out vigorously until the night was well advanced. Still no sign of the voyagers and a general feeling of uneasiness as to their fate became manifest.
“Something must have gone wrong with Win and Hoppy,” remarked Obed Sparrow. “They should have been here long ago.”
Peter Walker winked at Crosby. “Neighbor Sparrow is getting anxious about the stock in hand, Master Crosby,” insinuated Peter.
“Well, Master Walker,” replied mine host, “Obed has good reason to feel anxious about it, if that’s what’s in his mind. My last hogshead of Jamaica is running low.”
“Oh,” Peter put in slyly, “you may be doing Obed an injustice. Perhaps he’s thinking about the molasses. Mistress Sparrow is famed for her cookies, you know.”
Everybody laughed. “What was that rhyme of yours on the subject, Peter?” inquired Squire Knowles.
“If it wouldn’t hurt Obed’s feelings,” replied Master Walker, “I might give you a verse or two, if only to help pass the time.”
“Let’s have it, Master Walker!” cried several in chorus.
“Well, neighbors, it isn’t very good poetry, but it’s good rhyme and it’s a tribute to Mistress Sparrow’s accomplishments.”
Master Walker cleared his throat and began: