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CHAPTER XI GOOD-NIGHT IN THE FO’CASTLE “I guess ours’ll be a grown-up chap; but I wish he’d be a boy my size. How do you guess poor old San Francisco looks to-day?” “By this time Joner was snorin’ in the bottom of the boat, an’ the man that was bossin’ the ship comes up to Joner an’ woke him an’ arsked him to pray.”.

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A grey light began to be visible through the windows. Whereupon horse blankets were pressed into service and the accusing daylight was shut out. Some of the more conservative members of the party began to think of home. Among these was Ebenezer Wopp who had not danced since the opening set. He had sat for some hours in a comatose condition, except when he was aroused for a few moments by a nudge or pinch administered by his energetic wife. This time Moses was more successful. Comforted, he felt he could enjoy a few morsels himself. Calling the contrite Jethro, who, after extricating himself from the ruins he had made, had retired under a bench, the boy made his way to a remote corner. Here no parental admonitions would disturb him. He surveyed with pleased expectancy an enormous triangle of pie, a huge slab of gingerbread, a monument of glistening iced cake, half a dozen tarts, and a few other trifles he had brought with him. “An’ where did you hear it, my dear?” she queried, cautiously feeling her way. “I forgive you,” he condoned..