So absorbed was I in watching the gleeful embarkation, and so little dreamed I of being considered in a case like this, it had not even occurred to me that I too was an unmarried Basin widely over sixteen years of age, and yet a little under forty, when—
To the choicest seat in the very largest herring-box, the back of which was stylishly bedizened by the splendors of the star bedquilt, I heard my own name called:
"Major Paul Henry and the Widder Rafe!"
Who and where was the Widow Rafe? Lo! Vesty stepped out. To be sure—the formal, the flag-raising, the "Occasion" name of Vesty!
I led her to her place, but, as for me, I sat down, lost to mortal woes, silent and dazed, among the stars.
"Didn't you want to sit with me?" said Vesty, her face rather grave.
"Oh, why do you ask that?"
"You looked, when they called our names, as though you didn't want to."
Now I tried to dwell upon the words of Captain Leezur, but, however callous I succeeded in appearing on the outside, at heart I was a happy, happy bean-pole.
"I was stunned," I said. "Besides, you see, I did not expect to be invited."