The story he told was singularly deficient in dates and details, but he was steadfast in his adherence to the statement concerning his native state and town, and remembered nothing between his life under a torrid sun on an uninhabited island, whither he drifted from his sinking ship, and his present state and condition.
The state in question claimed from Connecticut the money due for the support of one of her insane citizens for thirty years, and investigation in this matter led to Mr. Hallock’s learning the before-unheard-of circumstances.
Not a word of all this must reach Mrs. Dobson, although the old town was alive and bubbling over with excitement on the subject.
Mrs. Hallock had undertaken the mission to ask Mrs. Dobson certain questions, but as the moment drew close, she would gladly have relinquished the task.
“Be real brave, mamma!” whispered Kate, the second before the door was opened to admit them.
There was Mrs. Dobson, in the sweetest of moods, and snowiest of caps, making mince pies.
“I’m so glad you’ve come, ’cause I know Harry don’t know how to go to your house to-day, and I just wanted to know if you would not come to the old house and take Christmas dinner with me this year, you and Frank, and his friends, if they come.”
Before Mrs. Hallock had time to thank her, or decline her invitation, she went on to say, “This year has been an amazing good year. I never felt so prosperous and as if I wanted to keep Thanksgiving all the time as I do now, and I believe I’ve fairly done with the foolishness of looking out on every feast day for the Captain. How he must pity me, if he is permitted to look down and know how I’ve watched for him!”
“Why, grandma,” said Kate, rocking the blue chair in which she sat until she made the floor creak, “what kind of a man was it that you looked for when you did look? He must be very brown, and dried, and kind of grizzly by this time, living nobody knows where, mustn’t he?”
Mrs. Dobson had taken her hands from the work she was doing and sat down to talk to her guests. In reply to Kate’s question, she said: “Kittie, I’m only waiting for you to get to be the great artist I know you’re going to be, to get you to paint his picture for me.”