By this time Denham had shot the boat up to the landing, where the hosts of the evening stood ready to receive them.  Dick was in a wild state of boyish hilarity, profiting by the novelty of his exalted position as hero of the evening, boldly to take a kiss from every pretty girl in succession as he swung her to the shore.  “It’s my right, to-night, you know, or if it isn’t, I’m major now and can make laws for myself,” he explained complacently to any expostulatory subject; and Mr. Hardcastle rubbed his soft, plump hands, and added:  “Never you mind, never you mind, my dear; every dog must have his day, and this is Dick’s day.  And after all it’s my son Dick, you know, and that makes it all right.  He doesn’t need any other guaranty than that he’s my son, I’m sure, and seeing I’m Dick’s papa, my dear, why I’ll just make bold to follow suit.”

But Dick would as soon have thought of offering to kiss the polar star as Gerald, and she was suffered to pass on unmolested to Mrs. Hardcastle, who stood just beyond, looking fagged and jaded, and as if she were heartily thankful that in all his life Dick could never come of age again.  One of the next arrivals was Bell Masters, very fine in her new dress, but flushed and overheated to an unbecoming degree.  She rowed up smartly, shipped her oars in true nautical fashion, sprang from the boat, and held out her hand to her companion with a hardly repressed sneer:  “Pray allow me to assist you, Mr. De Forest.”

That gentleman got up leisurely from his cushioned seat in the stern, and came forward cool and comfortable to an enviable degree.  “Thanks,” he said, with even a little more drawl than usual as he took her proffered hand.  “This boat is a little teetery.  You are uncommonly kind, and quite a champion oarswoman.”

“You ought to be a judge of my powers by this time certainly,” said Bell, snappishly.  She had rowed the entire distance from Joppa unaided.

“Yes, I flatter myself that I am.  People can always judge best of what they don’t do themselves.  And I will say that you do row well—­uncommonly well—­for a woman.  I don’t know a girl, except Miss Vernor, fit to pull stroke oar to you.  Ah, Mr. Hardcastle, what an adorable evening you have provided for us!  Mr. Dick Hardcastle, permit me to congratulate you upon attaining your majority, than which, believe me, there is but one greater blessing in the world—­that of minority.  I see you have not yet abandoned all the privileges of the latter, however,” he added, as Dick caught Bell round the waist and gave her a sounding salute on the cheek.  “That is an alleviation it seems unfair to monopolize.”

Bell laughed and boxed Dick’s ears, whereupon he speedily kissed her again, and Mr. Hardcastle chuckled and pulled one of the long, light braids hanging over her back.  Bell’s blonde hair, with her black eyes, was her strong point, and she invariably dressed it a la Kenwigs when she wore a hat.  None of Miss Bell’s lights ran any danger of ever being hidden under a bushel.