like those I used to get at Sam Coy's."

Ruth put in a word. "Well, then, Captain Hunniwell," she said, "I
think the restaurant you refer to must be one of the best in the
world."

Before the captain could reply, Maud did it for him.

"Mrs. Armstrong," she cautioned, "you mustn't take my father too
seriously. He dearly loves to catch people with what he hopes is a
joke. For a minute he caught even me this time, but I see through
him now. He didn't say the dinner at his precious restaurant was
BETTER than this one, he said it wasn't like it, that's all. Which
is probably true," she added, with withering scorn. "But what I
should like to know is what he means by his 'everything
considered.'"

Her father's gravity was unshaken. "Well," he said, "all I meant
was that this was a pretty good dinner, considerin' who was
responsible for gettin' it up."

"I see, I see. Mrs. Ellis, our housekeeper, and I are responsible,
Mrs. Armstrong, so you understand now who he is shooting at. Very
well, Pa," she added, calmly, "the rest of us will have our dessert
now. You can get yours at Sam Coy's."

The dessert was mince pie and a Boston frozen pudding, the latter
an especial favorite of Captain Sam's. He capitulated at once.

"'Kamerad! Kamerad!'" he cried, holding up both hands. "That's
what the Germans say when they surrender, ain't it? I give in,
Maud. You can shoot me against a stone wall, if you want to, only
give me my frozen puddin' first. It ain't so much that I like the
puddin'," he explained to Mrs. Armstrong, "but I never can make out
whether it's flavored with tansy or spearmint. Maud won't tell me,
but I know it's somethin' old-fashioned and reminds me of my
grandmother; or, maybe, it's my grandfather; come to think, I guess
likely 'tis."

Ruth grasped his meaning later when she tasted the pudding and
found it flavored with New England rum.

After dinner they adjourned to the parlor. Maud, being coaxed by
her adoring father, played the piano. Then she sang. Then they
all sang, all except Jed and the captain, that is. The latter
declared that his voice had mildewed in the damp weather they had
been having lately, and Jed excused himself on the ground that he
had been warned not to sing because it was not healthy.

Barbara was surprised and shocked.

"Why, Uncle Jed!" she cried. "You sing EVER so much. I heard you
singing this morning."

Jed nodded. "Ye-es," he drawled, "but I was alone