All in all, Pat drew a breath of relief when the last guest had gone and the last lantern candle expired, leaving the silver bush to its dreams and its moonlight. The party had been a tremendous success…“the nicest party I’ve ever been to,” Suzanne whispered before she took the hill road. “And that supper! Come up tomorrow night and we’ll have a good pi-jaw about everything.”

But when you were hostess there was, as Judy said, “a bit av a strain,” especially with the proposal of Samuel thrown in. She turned from the gate and ran up the back walk, crushing the damp mint as she ran. The late August night had grown a bit chilly and Judy’s kitchen, where a fire had been lit to brew the coffee, seemed attractive.

Pat halted in the doorway in amazement. There were Uncle Tom and the aunts…mother…Rae…Judy…Tillytuck…dad…and Uncle Horace! For of course the stranger could be nobody else.

Pat felt a little bit dazed as he rose to shake hands with her. This was not the Uncle Horace she had pictured…neither the genial old rascal of Judy’s yarns nor the typical tar of dad’s reminiscences. He was tall and thin and saturnine, with hair of pepper and salt. With his long lean face and shell-rimmed spectacles he looked more like a somewhat dyspeptic minister than a retired sea-captain. To be sure, there was something about his mouth…and his keen blue eyes…Pat felt that she wouldn’t have liked to head that mutiny against him.

“This is Pat,” said Long Alec.

“Humph! I’ve been hearing things about you,” grunted Uncle Horace as he shook hands.

Pat hadn’t a glimmer whether the things were complimentary or the reverse and retreated into herself. Uncle Horace, it seemed, had arrived unexpectedly, walking up from Silverbridge. Finding a party in full swing he had decided not to show himself until it was over.

“Had some fun watching the dance from the bush,” he said. “Some pretty girls clothed in smiles…and not much else. I never expected to see P. E. Island girls at a dance with no clothes on.”

“No clothes,” said Aunt Edith, rather staggered. She had not graced the party but had come over to find out what was keeping Tom so late.

“Well, none to speak of. There were three girls there with no back at all to their frocks. Times have changed since we were young, Alec.”

“For the better I should think,” said Rae pertly. “It must have been awful…dresses lined and re-lined, sleeves as big as balloons, and rats in your hair.”

Uncle Horace looked at her meditatively, as if wondering what kind of an insect she was, fitted his finger-tips carefully together, and went on with his tale. For the first time in her life Rae Gardiner felt squelched.