They made quite a ceremony of that dinner. Dick, imbued with the spirit of the occasion, made a jelly omelet as a _pièce de résistance_, and piled every good thing that the larder contained on the table up under the striped awning. They had stopped the headlong career of the _Slow Poke_ where a murmuring grove of trees came down and leaned over the water as though to watch their green finery mirrored back to them from the calm surface. They had snubbed the boat’s bow close to shore, so that half the upper deck was in the cool shadow, and at that end they had placed the table. Harry and Snip had jumped ashore and brought back sprays of leaves for the adornment of the festal board and Roy had ruthlessly snipped a dozen big red blooms from the geraniums in the boxes. Dinner was late, but no one minded, not even the doctor, for Ferry Hill was less than fifteen miles away, and three hours more would bring them there. [Illustration: The doctor was called on for a speech] The doctor was called on for a speech when the dessert was brought on, and responded eloquently, finally toasting his hosts in a brimming glass of “vin de Cold Spring.” Chub responded, “on behalf of himself and his crew, who, being a motley lot hailing from many countries, were unable to speak the English.” The crew groaned loudly at this, but later forgave the remark and responded generously with applause. Snip ate his repast from a dish at Harry’s side and had a little of everything, as was only proper when you consider the occasion. Harry decreed that no one was to hurry the least little bit, and no one did. And so it was two o’clock before the engine began its work once more, and almost five when the _Slow Poke_ sidled up to the Ferry Hill landing, and Snip, with a bark of sheer delight, leaped the intervening two yards of water and capered around the float. I might tell, at the cost of many details and much space, of the week that followed, but the story is really finished at this moment. It was a jolly week, the jolliest sort of a week, and every one, even Dr. and Mrs. Emery, enjoyed it thoroughly. And every one, Dr. and Mrs. Emery not the least, regretted the arrival of the day of departure. Good-bys were said, promises of future meetings made, and, with the doctor and Mrs. Emery and Harry waving from the landing, and Snip barking farewell, the _Slow Poke_ moved away on the final stage of her journey. The boys watched the group on the wharf until a point of land hid it from view. “Nice folks those,” said Dick, quietly. “Yes, they are!” murmured Roy. “Right, oh!” said Chub.