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“This is Jerry King, Bob,” said Whitney. “Another member of my corps. Shake hands with Bob Hazard, Jerry. We will all be together this summer.” Jerry again! Jerry, on whom the Indian was keeping a firm grip. In the afternoon the policeman called to talk with Father. Father was very serious and Mother looked frightfully worried. Sister Asta stared with open mouth. John had a bitter time of it while the matter was being settled, and afterward Asta’s teasing voice followed him everywhere as she kept calling out: “Credit to the scho-ol! Great credit! Wonderful credit! Credit to the scho-ol!”.

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“Sure do,” was the answer. “’Specially safe as I elect myself a c’mittee o’ one to stick here on guard.” When the feasting was over, there was a call for silence. It came from Father, who stood again at the top of the marble steps and was evidently going to make a speech. All the children flocked together near the steps, in the sunshine, and hundreds of childish faces were upturned towards the speaker. Behind Father, on the veranda, at the windows, and in the doorways stood John’s aged friends, among them Katrina in her bright red dress and Jeremias the wood-cutter in the mayor’s light coat that was altogether too small for him. Jeremias had been to the Kingthorpe woodshed the first thing, for there was something he understood; but now he had stationed himself behind Father. The crippled child sat on the lowest step, his pockets stuffed full of plums. Johnny Blossom talked so fast that his words tumbled over each other. “Oh, I must,” he continued, “for Grandmother said it would be heavenly to see the ocean once more.” —“for we are surely going to drown,” continued Tellef..