Such a frying and broiling!
Before Ham Morris was ready for his second start, and right in the midst of his greatest hurry, word came over from Mrs. Foster that "the table was waiting for them all."
Even Mrs. Kinzer drew a long breath of relief and satisfaction, for there was nothing more in the wide world that she could do, just then, for either "that baby" or its unfortunate parents, and she was beginning to worry about her son-in-law, and how she should get him to eat something. For Ham Morris had worked himself up into a high state of excitement in his benevolent haste, and did not seem to know that he was hungry. Miranda had entirely sympathized with her husband until that message came from Mrs. Foster.
"Oh, Hamilton, and good Mrs. Foster must have cooked it herself!"
"No," said Ham, thoughtfully; "our Dabney went home with Ford and Annie. I can't stay but a minute, but I think we'd better go right over."
Go they did, while the charitable neighbors whom Ham had stirred up concerning the wreck attended to the completion of the cargo of the "Swallow." There would be more than one good boat ready to accompany her back across the bay, laden with comforts of all sorts.
Even old Jock, the village tavern-keeper, not by any means the best man in the world, had come waddling down to the landing with a demijohn of "old apple brandy," and his gift had been kindly accepted by the special advice of the village physician.
"That sort of thing has made plenty of ship-wrecks around here," remarked the man of medicine; "and the people on the bar have swallowed so much salt-water, the apple-jack can't hurt 'em."
May be, the doctor was wrong about it, but the demijohn went over to the wreck in the "Swallow."
Mrs. Foster's dining-room was not a large one. There were no large rooms in that house. Nevertheless, the entire party managed to gather around the table,—all except Dab and Ford.