had to say was given in a whisper, and was not heard
by even Annie Foster, who was just then looking prettier than ever as
she busied herself around the kitchen fire. As for the Hart boys, Mrs.
Foster had invited them to come into the parlor and talk with her till
dinner should be ready.

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.

"Dab is head cook and I'm head waiter," had been Ford's explanation,
"and we can't have any women folk a-bothering about our kitchen. Frank
and the boys are company."

Certainly the cook had no cause to be ashamed of his work. The coffee
was e