The waters of Duxbury Bay, placid and gleaming with the hazy sunlight of the Indian summer, reflect the sails of a dozen or more boats lazily gliding in from Plymouth, from Marshfield, from Scituate, and even from Barnstable and Sandwich, for the children of the Pilgrims have not yet outgrown the family love and interest that bound their fathers in so close a tie, and the Robinsons, children of the good pastor who so loved and so cruelly misjudged our captain, have come from the Cape to the wedding of his son, bringing with them little Marcy, to whom Standish left “£3 to her whom I tenderly love for her grandfather’s sake.” Yes, this is the wedding day of Josiah Standish and Mary Dingley, whose parents have generously consented to bring their daughter to Duxbury and let the marriage take place in her future home, as the captain has requested; and now that he has given his consent, the old man gives his heart to the plan, and sends his own boat with John Haward or Hobomok laden with invitations to the old friends whom in these latter days he has almost churlishly avoided. “Our maid would have us show true and hearty welcome to the new sister,” he says rather wistfully to Betty, upon whom he leans pathetically for companionship and appreciation, and she confidently replies, “Yes, indeed, she would have it so.” “The governor’s boat is coming in, father,” announces Josiah, his honest face aglow with love and pride, and the captain rather heavily descends the path, and as the boat grazes the wharf extends his hand to the stately white-haired and benignant man, who grasps it affectionately and says,-- “So here we all are once more, Captain. ’Tis a great compliment these young folk pay me, when so many other magistrates are nigh hand to them.” “So many, ay,” replies the captain heartily. “But shake us all up in a bag, and we’ll not make one of Will Bradford, let alone that you’re governor of the Colony and my boy’s so cock-a-hoop that no less than the governor will serve his turn.” “Says your father sooth, Josiah?” demands Bradford, turning to give his hand to the bridegroom, who presents himself with bashful manliness, or if you please with manly bashfulness, to welcome his father’s guests and receive their jocose congratulations. “And now to business, that we may the sooner come to pleasure, for I shrewdly guess the housewife hath a crust and a cup ready for us somewhere, and so soon as we’ve settled these two young folk, we’ll look for our reward.” So cried the captain, striving piteously after his old jocular air, as he led the way up the hill to the house, which, with doors standing hospitably open, white curtains waving from swinging casements, and groups of smiling matrons and maids standing around, presented a very festive appearance. “You have added to your house since I was here, Captain,” remarked Bradford, pausing at the top of the bluff to regard the scene before him.