They sat down together. Captain Elisha, with a rueful smile, pointed to
the floral centerpiece.
"There's your posies, Jim," he observed. "Look pretty, don't they. She
ain't seen 'em yet, but she'll like 'em when she does. And that over
there, is her present from me. Stevie gave her a box of gloves, and I
expect, from what Mrs. Dunn hinted, that she and that son of hers gave
her somethin' fine. She'll show us when she gets here. What's this,
Commodore? Oysters, hey? Well, they ought to taste like home. They're
'Cape Cods'; I wouldn't have anything else."
"We won't touch the birthday cake, Jim," he added, a little later.
"She's got to cut that herself."
The soup was only lukewarm, but neither of them commented on the fact.
The captain had scarcely tasted of his, when he paused, his spoon in
air.
"Hey?" he exclaimed. "Listen! What's that? By the everlastin', it IS.
Here they are, at LAST!"
He sprang up with such enthusiasm that his chair tipped backwards
against the butler's devoted shins. Pearson, almost as much pleased,
also rose.
Captain Elisha paid scant attention to the chair incident.
"What are you waitin' for?" he demanded, whirling on Edwards, who was
righting the chair with one hand and rubbing his knee with the other.
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