telegram also was from that same town.

"_I_ had one of those things," observed Captain Zelotes, alluding to
the telegram. "Fosdick sent me one of those long ones, night-letters
I believe they call 'em. He wants me to tell you that Mrs. Fosdick is
better and that they cal'late to be in New York before very long and
shall expect you there. Of course you knew that, Al, but I presume
likely the main idea of the telegram was to help say, 'Welcome home' to
you, that's all."

Albert nodded. Madeline and her mother had been in Florida all winter.
Mrs. Fosdick's health was not good. She declared that her nerves had
given way under her frightful responsibilities during the war. There
was, although it seems almost sacrilege to make such a statement, a
certain similarity between Mrs. Fletcher Fosdick and Issachar Price. The
telegram was, as his grandfather surmised, an expression of welcome and
of regret that the senders could not be there to share in the reception.
The two letters which accompanied it he put in his pocket to read later
on, when alone. Somehow he felt that the first hours in the old
house belonged exclusively to his grandparents. Everything else, even
Madeline's letters, must take second place for that period.

Dinner was, to say the least, an ample meal. Rachel and Olive had, as
Captain Lote said, "laid themselves out" on that dinner. It began well
and continued well and ended best of all, for the dessert was one of
which Albert was especially fond. They kept pressing him to eat until
Laban, who was an invited guest, was moved to comment.

"Humph!" observed Mr. Keeler. "I knew 'twas the reg'lar program to
kill the fatted calf when the prodigal got home, but I see now it's the
proper caper to fat up the prodigal to take the critter's place. No, no,
Rachel, I'd like fust-rate to eat another bushel or so to please you,
but somethin'--that still, small voice we're always readin' about, or
somethin'--seems to tell me 'twouldn't be good jedgment. . . . Um-hm.
. . . 'Twouldn't be good jedgment. . . . Cal'late it's right, too. . . .
Yes, yes, yes."

"Now, Cap'n Lote," he added, as they rose from the table, "you stay
right to home here for the rest of the day. I'll hustle back to the
office and see if Issy's importance has bust his b'iler for him.
So-long, Al. See you pretty soon. Got some things to talk about, you and
I have. . . . Yes, yes."

Later, when Rachel was in the kitchen with the dishes, Olive left the
s