n the road and nobody's been to get in provision, if it happens to
be company to dinner. Mrs. Calvert hasn't much sense that way. Seems
sometimes as if she'd like to ask all creation to meals without regard
to victuals. Peek under that tree. Can you see? Don't it appear like
the doctor's rig? It is! And there's a man with him--_two men!_ As
sure as preaching I'll warrant you your Aunt Betty'll ask these folks
to dinner!"

Dorothy obediently "peeked." Then stood up and rubbed her eyes. Then
peeked once more and with a wild cry of delight bounded over the
gang-plank to the bank beyond, straight into the arms of a gray,
vigorous old man, whose coming was the most wonderful event of all
that day's strange happenings.

CHAPTER XVII.

CONCLUSION.

"Uncle Seth! Oh! is it you--truly--really--you darling Uncle Seth?
Now, indeed, this is the most wonderful day in all my life! I am so
glad--so glad!"

"Same little, dear, enthusiastic Dorothy! Well, my child, I reckon I'm
as glad as you. But have you no greeting for your old acquaintance,
Mr. Stinson? or a 'Howdy' for the doctor? He and I are old friends,
let me tell you. I've known him since he was a mighty small boy."

Dorothy released Mr. Winters and made her pretty obeisance to the
gentlemen with him, while the good doctor added to his friend's
statement:

"Yes, indeed, since I was big enough to walk alone. It was he who
taught me my letters, sent me to school at his own expense, gave me my
start in life. What I don't owe your grand 'Uncle Seth' couldn't be
told. But, hello! What's up? Josephine? Eunice? So they've at last
called upon my house-boat friends, have they? And--my eyes!"

As the three newcomers stepped to the ground and started across the
gang-plank, the doctor did, indeed, rub his eyes and stare. He had not
forgotten that this was the tenth anniversary of his wedding and knew
that his wife would prepare some pleasant surprise for him, after her
custom of celebrating, but he was more than surprised this time to see
his father-in-law standing on the little deck, holding Eunice in his
arms and--yes, actually smiling! But the physician was a man of few
words. Shaking the Colonel's hand in the most ordinary fashion he
said: "Good morning, father;" and in that brief salutation the
alienation of ten years was bridged, and was never referred to again
by either side.

"Well, Cousin Seth. Better late than never;" was Aunt Betty's
characteristic greeting