“Oh, what’s that?” said Sam, as a package done up in silk paper and tied with silver cord was disclosed.

“That’s—­oh—­that’s my wife’s wedding-dress,” said James, unfolding and shaking out a rich satin; “and here’s her shawl,” drawing out an embroidered box, scented with sandal-wood.

The boys all looked at Diana, and Diana laughed and grew pale and red all in the same breath, as James, folding back the silk and shawl in their boxes, handed them to her.

Mrs. Pitkin laughed and kissed her, and said, gaily, “All right, my daughter—­just right.”

What an evening that was, to be sure!  What a confusion of joy and gladness!  What a half-telling of a hundred things that it would take weeks to tell.

James had paid the mortgage and had money to spare; and how he got it all, and how he was saved at sea, and where he went, and what befell him here and there, he promised to be telling them for six months to come.

“Well, your father mustn’t be kept up too late,” said Mrs. Pitkin.  “Let’s have prayers now, and then to-morrow we’ll be fresh to talk more.”

So they gathered around the wide kitchen fire and the family Bible was brought out.

“Father,” said James, drawing out of his pocket the Bible his mother had given him at parting, “let me read my Psalm; it has been my Psalm ever since I left you.”  There was a solemn thrill in the little circle as James read the verses: 

“They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; these see the works of the Lord and his wonders in the deep.  For he commandeth and raiseth the stormy wind which lifteth up the waves thereof.  They mount up to the heaven; they go down again to the depths:  their soul is melted because of trouble.  Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses.  He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still.  Then are they glad because they be quiet, so he bringeth them unto their desired haven.  Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!”

* * * * *

When all had left the old kitchen, James and Diana sat by the yet glowing hearth and listened to the crickets, and talked over all the past and the future.

“And now,” said James, “it’s seven years since I left you, and to-morrow is the seventh Thanksgiving, and I’ve always set my heart on getting home to be married Thanksgiving evening.”

“But, dear me, Jim, we can’t.  There isn’t time.”

“Why not?—­we’ve got all the time there is!”

“But the wedding-dress can’t be made, possibly.”

“Oh, that can wait till the week after.  You are pretty enough without it!”

“But what will they all say?”

“Who cares what they say?  I don’t,” said James.  “The fact is, I’ve set my heart on it, and you owe me something for the way you treated me the last Thanksgiving I was here, seven years ago.  Now don’t you?”