ight worth seeing. As for the Hart boys, Mrs.
Foster had invited them to come into the parlor and talk with her until
dinner should be ready. She added, with her usual smile, that there were
cooks enough in the kitchen.

Such a frying and broiling!

Before Ham Morris was ready with his cargo for his trip back to the
wreck, 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. 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 manage to get him to eat
something. For Ham Morris had worked himself 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 the
arrival of that message from Mrs. Foster.

"O Hamilton! And good Mrs. Foster must have cooked it all herself!"

"No, Miranda," said Ham thoughtfully. "Our Dabney went home with Ford
and Annie. I can't stay more than a minute, but I think we'd better go
right over. There's a good many things to come yet, from the village."

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." More than that was true; for at least one other good and
kind-hearted boat would be ready to accompany her on her return trip
across the bay, laden with creature 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 shipwrecks around here," said the
man of medicine; "and the people on the bar have swallowed so much salt
water, the apple-jack can't hurt 'em."

Maybe the doctor was wrong about it; but the demijohn went over to the
wreck in "The Swallow," very much to the gratification of old Jock.

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.
"Frank and the boys are co