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Jubilation now, instead of Consternation, in the office of Mr. Benjamin Brummage in Wall Street. President Brummage had convoked his Directors to hear the First Semi-Annual Report of the new Superintendent and Dictator of Dunderbunk. And there they sat around the green table, no longer forlorn and dreading a, failure, but all chuckling with satisfaction over their prosperity.
I am going to take my Guards up to call on the Governor." Perry dashed off, followed by a score of Dunderbunk boys, organized by him as the Purtett Guards, and taught to salute him as Generalissimo with military honors. So many hundreds of turkeys, done to a turn, now began to have an effect upon the atmosphere. Few odors are more subtile and pervading than this, and few more appetizing.
Prosperous Dunderbunk had a Dinner, yes, a DINNER, that day, and Richard Wade was gratefully remembered by many over-fed foundry-men and their over-fed families. Wade had not had half skating enough. "I'll time myself down to Skerrett's Point," he thought, "and take my luncheon there among the hemlocks."
He read and ticketed each man, as he came up, good, bad, or on the fence, and marked each so that he would know him among a myriad. The Hands faced the Head. It was a question whether the two hundred or the one would be master in Dunderbunk. Which was boss? An old question.
In a better mood, Bill would have liked Wade's looks and words; but today he had a sore head, a sour face, and a bitter heart from last night's spree. And then he had heard it was as well known already in Dunderbunk as if the town-crier had cried it that Wade was lodging at Mrs. Purtett's, where poor Bill was excluded.
Yesterday down came Mr. Superintendent Whiffler, from Dunderbunk, up the North River, to say, that, "unless something be done, at once, the Dunderbunk Foundry and Iron-Works must wind up." President Brummage forthwith convoked his Directors. And here they sat around the green table, forlorn as the guests at a Barmecide feast. Well they might be forlorn!
In this queer figure they rushed through the laughing crowd. Then all Dunderbunk formed a ring, agog for a grand show of The world loves to see Great Artists, and expects them to do their duty. It is hard to treat of this Fine Art by the Art of Fine Writing. Its eloquent motions must be seen.
They wanted to read in the newspapers, 'If all the iron rails made at the Dunderbunk Works in the last six months were put together in a straight line, they would reach twice round our terraqueous globe and seventy-three miles two rails over. So on that poetic foundation they started the concern." Wade laughed. "But how did you happen to be with them?"
"Now, then," Wade said, "we'll give Dunderbunk a laugh, as we practised last night." They got under full headway, Wade backwards, Bill forwards, holding hands. When they were near enough to the merry throng out in the stream, both dropped into a sitting posture, with the left knee bent, and each with his right leg stretched out parallel to the ice and fitting compactly by the other man's leg.
She opened her eyes and knew him. "The ice shall not carry off her hat to frighten some mother, down stream," says Bill Tarbox, catching it. All these proceedings Cap'n Ambuster's spy-glass announced to Dunderbunk. "They're h'istin' her up. They've slumped her into the skiff. They're puttin' for shore. Hooray!" Pity a spy-glass cannot shoot cheers a mile and a half!
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