“You’re right, Phin,” replied the showman heartily. “I guess mine’s been stirred, too. ’Cause when I undertook to thank Nymp’ Bodfish at the wharf after we got back for havin’ been so kind and gentlemanly as to take me down the bay and save the Judge and the young ones, he drawed off and got in one pelt at my eye, and I didn’t chase him nor want to. I tell ye, I’ve got jest as good a disposition as any one when I’ve got half a chance to show it.” He poked the puffiness under his eye and muttered to himself: “I guess I reelly am gettin’ to be pretty fair-minded, ’cause if he’d a-blacked the two of ’em I’m willin’ to acknowledge that he wouldn’t have been more’n half square with me for what I’ve done to him.” The suddenness of this news of rescue had dizzied the Squire for a moment, but he now pushed his brother toward the corner of the house with a slap on the back that made Hiram cringe. “Bring them in, Hime! This is your triumph!” He threw open the kitchen door with a slam that brought the eyes of all in the kitchen around with a startled snap. The minister paused. The father and mother stared in affright. “Bring them along, brother!” shouted the Squire joyously. “Here’s Hero Hiram Look,” he announced, “and his salvage from the sea!” One child was asleep in the Judge’s arms. The other clung to Hiram’s hand and blinked at the light streaming from the open door. The mother screamed and would have dashed upon them, but the Squire gently held her back. “Wait, this is a wedding!” he cried. “Hands together this way! God bless you and yours. Now, Brother Hime, bring the wedding presents.” “I ain’t a very extry lookin’ sight to come to a weddin’,” said the showman, “but I didn’t come to your first one, Klebe, and I didn’t send no present. All is, I’ve tried to square myself at this second one, and my best wishes for everlastin’ happiness goes along with ’em,” he added wistfully. He put the sleeping child into the mother’s arms and stood back to let the Judge advance toward his son with the light of forgiveness in his eyes. “Oh, father!” wept Kleber, stumbling forward and dragging himself on his knees toward the old man. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know until the Squire told me.” “Stand up, my boy,” said the Judge, putting out his trembling hand. “All of us know better now, and some knowledge is bought at cruel prices.” It was without a word that Hiram took the hand that Kleber Willard put out to him when he turned from his father after a time. But as they stood there clinging to each other Hiram leaned forward with a flash of humour that relieved the situation, whispering: “That black eye, Klebe, is the dot, period, full stop, set down after the very last fight of my whole life, and I got it for your sake.” “Come, people!” called the Squire from the doorway. “Come away with me now. The wedding is over. The night is getting late and the stars are out again.” He smiled across the room at Sylvena as he said it.