As you may believe, our little house, with its groaning table and all these husky neighbours, was very, very full; when Jean and Marjorie and Jack and I and the minister and Reddy and Jake and Bella Donna and Spoof were added we were packed like city people in a six-o'clock street car. It was with difficulty we found elbow room to get out of our wraps, and then there were laughing and hand-shaking and congratulations all round.
"What happened the oxen?" Burke asked, when the general buzz permitted the question. "They came a-roarin' round here like a range stampede a few minutes ago, trailin' a sleigh-tongue all unravelled like a Christmas tree. I put 'em in the barn."
"You shouldn't have done that," I protested. "Their place is outside when company comes."
"Couldn't make 'em believe it," said Burke. "They were set on goin' in, and most obstrep'rous about bein' unyoked. I turned Ole's bucks out for the sake o' peace."
"Yaw, dat was right," Ole assented. "Ay tank by Yimminy when folks get married nothing's too good for nobody." Ole's references were somewhat obscure but his good intentions could have been read a mile away.
"But what did happen?" Burke persisted. "We were just goin' to organize a search party."
"It was all the fault of the bally bullocks," Spoof explained. "I told them to hard a-port and they slithered to starboard, and over we went."
"Ah'm affeared the skipper should lose his papers," said Andy Smith, dryly. "He's no a safe mon on sich a sea."
"That sea is nothing to the one our friends here have just shipped on," Spoof rejoined. "As for losing my papers; that's a fact, I did. My cigarette papers. Who's got a helping?"
So the banter continued until Mrs. Burke reminded us that "the turk" was cooling off and began seating us about the table,—as far as it went. Someone had thoughtfully brought boards to build a table and seats, and as many as could sat down. The others were served standing.