"
And Neal Farrar, just back for a short vacation from Sandhurst Military
College, twice gravely saluted the gay bunting with which his Christmas
arch was draped, where the Union Jack of old England kissed the American
Stars and Stripes.
"I say!" he exclaimed, turning to a tall youth, who had been inspecting
his operations, "that Liverpool train must be beastly late, Dol. Those
fellows ought to be here before this. The Mater will be in a stew. She
ordered dinner at five, as the youngsters dine with us, of course,
to-day, and it's past that now."
"Hush! will you? I'll vow that cab is stopping! Yes! By all that's
splendid, there they are!" and Dol Farrar's joy-whoop rang through the
English oaken hall with scarcely less vehemence than it had rung in
former days through the dim aisles of the Maine forests.
A sound of spinning cab-wheels abruptly stopping, a noise of men's feet
on the steps outside, and the hall-door was flung wide by two pairs of
welcoming hands.
"Cyrus! Royal! Got here at last? Oh! but this is jolly."
"Neal, dear old boy, how goes it? Dol, you're a giant.
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