When I woke up the room was quite dim, and Mother and Father were standing at the door talking. Father looked awfully tired, but dear and glad, and he would n't let me tell him how sorry I was about it all. Mother said that even more surprising things had been happening, and that if I'd slept enough for a time, I'd better come down to supper. That was queer, too,—dressing in the twilight and coming down to supper, instead of to breakfast.
We all talked a lot at supper, of course, and people kept asking questions. I had to do most of the answering, because Jerry always left out the parts about himself, and yet it was he who did all the wonderful things. We had bottles of ginger-pop, because it was a sort of feast, and Father got up and proposed toasts, just like a real banquet. First he said:
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