"Indeed, my dear Mrs. Warden, you'll say 'Yes,' I know," urged
Livingstone suavely. "Only think how good a nice cup of tea would taste
now."
"I know, but--" She glanced at her husband.
"Nonsense! Of course you'll come," insisted Livingstone, laying a gently
compelling hand on the arm of each.
Fifteen minutes later Hezekiah stood looking about him with wondering
eyes.
"Well, well, Abby, ain't this slick?" he cried.
His wife did not reply. The mirrors, the lights, the gleaming silver and
glass had filled her with a delight too great for words. She was vaguely
conscious of her husband, of Mr. Livingstone, and of a smooth-shaven
little man in gray who was presented as "Mr. Harding." Then she found
herself seated at that wonderful table, while beside her chair stood an
awesome being who laid a printed card before her. With a little ecstatic
sigh she gave Hezekiah her customary signal for the blessing and bowed
her head.
"There!" exulted Livingstone aloud. "Here we--" He stopped short. From
his left came a deep-toned, reverent voice invoking the divine blessing
upon the place, the food, and the new friends who were so kind to
strangers in a strange land.
"By Jove!" muttered Livingstone under his breath, as his eyes met those
of Jim across the table.
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