It was pretty thorough pumping, managed with the skill of an experienced cross-examiner. Captain Elisha, without realizing that he was doing so, told of his boyhood, his life at sea, his home at South Denboro, his position in the village, his work as selectman, as member of the school committee, and as director in the bank.
The tone of the questioner expressed nothing--he was too well trained for that--but every item of information was tabulated and appraised.
The tall mahogany-cased clock struck three, then four. The lawyer finished his cigar and lit another. He offered a fresh one to his guest, but the offer was declined.
"No, thank you," observed the captain. "I've been yarnin' away so fast that my breath's been too busy to keep this one goin'.
There's consider'ble left yet. This is a better smoke than I'm used to gettin' at the store down home. I tell Ryder--he's our storekeeper and postmaster--that he must buy his cigars on the reel and cut 'em off with the scissors. When the gang of us all got a-goin' mail times, it smells like a rope-walk burnin' down. Ho! ho!
It does, for a fact. Yet I kind of enjoy one of his five-centers, after all. You can get used to most anything. Maybe it's the home flavor or the society. P'raps they'd taste better still if they was made of seaweed. I'll trouble you for a match, Mr. Sylvester.
Two of 'em, if you don't mind."
He whittled one match to a point with his pocket knife, impaled the cigar stump upon it, and relit with the other.
Meanwhile the room had been filling up. Around each of the big windows overlooking the Avenue were gathered groups of men, young and old, smoking, chatting, and gazing idly out. Captain Elisha regarded them curiously.
"This ain't a holiday, is it?" he asked, after a while.
"No. Why?"
"I was just wonderin' if all those fellers hadn't any work to do, that's all.""Who? That crowd?" The lawyer laughed. "Oh, they're doing their regular stunt. You'll find most of them here every afternoon about this time.""You don't say. Pay 'em wages for it, do you?""Not that I know of. Some of them are brokers, who come up after the Exchange closes. Others are business men, active or retired.
Some don't have any business--except what they're doing now.""I want to know! Humph! They remind me of the gang in the billiard room back home. The billiard-roomers--the chronic ones--don't have any business, either, except to keep the dust from collectin' on the chairs. That and talkin' about hard times.
These chaps don't seem to be sufferin' from hard times, much.""No. Most of the younger set have rich fathers or have inherited money.""I see. They let the old man do the worryin'. That's philosophy, anyhow. What are they so interested in outside? Parade goin' by?""No. I imagine an unusually pretty girl passed just then.""Is that so? Well, well! Say, Mr. Sylvester, the longer I stay in New York the more I see that the main difference between it and South Denboro is size. The billiard-room gang acts just the same way when the downstairs school teacher goes past. Hello!""What is it?"
"That young chap by the mizzen window looks sort of familiar to me.
The one that stood up to shake a day-day to whoever was passin'.
Hum! He's made a hit, ain't he? I expect some unprotected female's heart broke at that signal. I cal'late I know him.""Who? Which one? Oh, that's young Corcoran Dunn. He is a lady-killer, in his own estimation. How d'ye do, Dunn."The young man turning grinning from the window, caught a glimpse of the lawyer as the latter rose to identify him. He strolled over to the fire.
"Hello, Sylvester," he hailed, carelessly. "That was a peach. You should have seen her. What? Why, it's the Admiral!""How d'ye do, Mr. Dunn," said Captain Elisha.
"Have you two met before?" asked Sylvester in astonishment.
"Yes. I had the pleasure of assisting in the welcoming salute when our seafarin' friend come aboard. How was that, Captain? Some nautical class to that remark?""Yup. You done fust rate, considerin' how recent you shipped.""Thanks. Overwhelmed, I'm sure." Then, with a look of languid amusement at the pair, "What is this--a meeting of the Board of Naval Affairs? Have you bought a yacht, Sylvester?""No." The lawyer's tone was sharp.
