But the Captain was happy in the belief that the portraits were gems of truth and art, and as he himself was accustomed to observe on various occasions, putting it as a profoundly philosophical conclusion, “What’s the odds, so as you’re happy!” A chorus of greetings welcomed Harrington, as he came in and took his seat at the breakfast table. “We began to think you warn’t comin’, John,” remarked Mrs. Fisher, pouring out his coffee. “I hurried home as quick as I could, Hannah,” replied the young man. “Well, Sophy, you look as bright as gold this morning. The jewellers would put you in a box of pink cotton.” Sophronia, a plump and pretty little miss, with blue eyes, a charming little snub nose, and a dimple in her chin, smiled coquettishly at this compliment, and glanced at the smiling face of the speaker. “My!” she exclaimed, saucily, “how smart you are, John! I wish I could say such pretty things to you.” “Well, try,” jested Harrington. “Compliment me on this beard which you admire so much.” “Beard indeed!” said Sophy, tossing her head, with a playful pout of her ripe cherry lips, “I don’t admire it at all. The girls ought to set their faces against it.” “Maybe they do, Sophy,” returned Harrington, with sly significance. Sophy was caught, and tossed her head, coloring and smiling, while the Captain, with his mouth full of bread and butter, burst into a roar of laughter, in which Mrs. Fisher, John H., and Joel James joined, the latter beating the table with the haft of his knife. “That’s all very well for you to say,” said Sophy, with another fling of her head, and pout of her lip. “And that’s all very well for the girls to do,” bantered Harrington, whereat the merriment burst forth again. “Gracious! There’s no use in me talking. You’re as smart as a steel trap, John,” she answered. Joel James, a bluff and burly rosy-cheeked boy, with his father’s features and his mother’s blue eyes, interrupted this play of repartee, to say, with his mouth full of breakfast, that his kite wouldn’t fly nohow. “She pitches about like as if she was crazy, John,” he grumbled, munching between the words. “That’s because she hasn’t bob enough. We’ll fix that,” returned Harrington, as much interested in the boy’s grievance as if it was an affair of State. “And I can’t make my peg-top spin, John,” complained John H., looking dolefully at Harrington with his soft black eyes and chubby countenance. “Can’t? Well, after breakfast I’ll show you how,” said Harrington, good-naturedly. “The kite shall fly and the top shall spin, as sure as the world goes round. By the way, Eldad, how’s our friend out yonder? I haven’t seen him this morning.” The Captain glanced out at the open window looking into the yard, before replying. “He’s up, eating his breakfast,”, he answered. “I’ve locked your door, and the garden gate too, and here’s the keys,” he added, pointing to them by the side of his plate.