young workmen from near by
cities and towns, statesmen and scholars. But of them all, none was
such a hero, and none so eagerly awaited, as Harry Armstrong. For only
the summer before, Harry had taken a Canadian lacrosse team around the
world and had vanquished everything in Europe, Asia and Africa that
dared to hold up a stick against them.

When the first far away note of the _Inverness'_ whistle floated across
the water from the Gates, the ladies at the Presbyterian church began
putting the finishing touches to the tables and the dressing on the
salads, and half of the reception committee that had remained at home
drove down to the dock. They arranged themselves there in proper
order, with Captain Willoughby, the Mayor, at the head, or rather
almost at the head, for of course Lawyer Ed was a few steps in advance
of him.

The dock was a new and important landing place. There was a big
distinction between the dock and the wharf. The latter was the
decrepit old wooden structure, torn and jarred by ice and storms, that
stood at the foot of Main Street, where every one of the Old Boys had
fished and fallen in and nearly drowned himself many a time. But the
dock, as every one knew, was the fine new landing place, built of stone
and cement, and stretching from the town park, away out, it almost
seemed, as far as the Gates. The _Inverness_ had had instruction to
put in at the dock, not only to impress the Old Boys with the strides
Algonquin had made, but as a delicate compliment to Tom Willoughby,
through whose political influence it had been built.

All the cabs in town had been hired and all the buggies loaned, and
they lined up along the park road waiting to take the guests up to the
church. Lawyer Ed had suggested at first that the Mayor ride down in
his automobile, but as all the horses in town had to be out at the same
time, the experiment was voted too dangerous and the Mayor drove in a
commonplace but safe cab.

Every one was at his proper station waiting when, with a blaze of
colour and a burst of music, the _Inverness_ curved around Wanda Island
and swept into view. She was a brave sight surely! From every side
floated banners and pennons, her deck rail and her flag-staff were
covered with green boughs, Old Boys fairly swarmed the decks from stem
to stern. And up in the bow, their instruments flashing in the
sunlight, stood the band, playing loudly and gaily, "Home, Sweet Home."

No one ever quite