assembled company with a smile.

Silence ensued. Bideabout looked round.

Then, with a cry of joy, mingled with pain, Mrs. Verstage started
from her feet.

"It is Iver! my Iver!"

In another moment mother and son were locked in each other's arms.

The guests rose and looked questioningly at their host, before
they welcomed the intruder.

Simon Verstage remained seated, with his glass in his hand, gazing
sternly into it. His face became mottled, red spots appeared on
the temples, and on the cheekbones; elsewhere he was pale.

Mehetabel went to him, placed her hand upon his, and said, in a
trembling voice, "Dear father, this is my wedding day. I am about
to leave you for good. Do not deny me the one and only request I
make. Forgive Iver."

The old man's lips moved, but he did not speak. He looked steadily,
somewhat sternly, at the young man and mustered his appearance.

Meanwhile Iver had disengaged himself from his mother's embrace,
and he came towards his father with extended hand.

"See," said he cheerily, "I am free to admit, and do it heartily,
that I did wrong, in painting over the stern of the vessel, and
putting it into perspective as far as my lights went. Father! I
can remove the coat of paint that I put on, and expose that
outrageous old stern again. I will do more. I will violate all
the laws of perspective in heaven and earth, and turn the bows
round also, so as to thoroughly show the ship's head, and make
that precious vessel look like a dog curling itself up for a nap.
Will that satisfy you?"

All the guests were silent, and fixed their eyes anxiously on the
taverner.

Iver was frank in speech, had lost all provincial dialect, was
quite the gentleman. He had put off the rustic air entirely. He
was grown a very handsome fellow, with oval face, full hair on his
head, somewhat curling, and his large brown eyes were sparkling
with pleasure at being again at home. In his whole bearing there
was self-confidence.

"Simon!" pleaded Mrs. Verstage, with tears in her voice, "he's
your own flesh and blood!"

He remained unmoved.

"Father!" said Mehetabel, clinging to his hand, "Dear, dear
father! for my sake, whom you have loved, and whom you lose out
of your house to-day."

"There is my hand," said the old man.

"And you shall have the ship again just as suits your heart,"
said Iver.

"I doubt," answered the taverner, "it will be easier to get the
Old Ship to look what she ort, than it will