"Whether the other chaps have done well, I don't know. Davie may have
kept at it, but I suspect the rest of the boys haven't killed themselves
with hard study. But they shall have a good home-coming, at any rate."

Mrs. Whitney smiled, and he proceeded:

"Now I'm going to send out these invitations"--he pushed the list toward
her--"I shall have the drawing-room and music-room floors covered, and
all extra seats arranged, give Turner carte blanche as to flowers, if he
can't furnish enough out of our own conservatories--and the evening will
end with a handsome 'spread,' as Jasper calls it. In short, I shall
recognize their attempt to make it pleasant for the boys' holiday, by
helping them out on the affair all I can." The old gentleman now leaned
back in his big chair and studied his daughter's face.

"And you'll never regret it, father," she cried, with an enthusiasm that
satisfied him, "for these young people will all repay you a thousand-
fold, I do believe, in the time to come."

"Don't I know it?" cried Mr. King, getting out of his chair hastily to
pace the floor. "Goodness me! they repay me already. They're fine young
things, every one of them--Whitneys, Peppers and my boy--as fine as they
are made. And whoever says they're not, doesn't know a good piece of
work when it's before his eyes. Bless me!" pulling out his handkerchief
to mop his face violently, "I don't want to see any finer."

"I hope I shall have a sight of Jasper's and Polly's faces when you tell
them what you intend to do," said Mrs. Whitney; "where are your cards,
father?"