"Very well, then"—Masters speaking, his face cleared of its cloud—"I'll arrange with the steward and the cook. Fresh milk, while it lasts, and beef tea right away till you feel you can compass solidity little and often; that is my prescription."
"You are a good old chap!"
Almost tears in his eyes as he spoke. He had not counted on making friends at all, and here, the moment he set foot on the boat, was one to hand. And such a one! A perfect prince of good fellows.
"For some days," Dick continued, "I shall keep almost to this cabin. Lying down will rest me. Moreover, I am not anxious to show up to the crowd."
Again that purple flush. Masters, considerately, was not looking. Was engaged hanging up his belongings and stowing them away in the limited space at his disposal. It was work which afforded occasion for a considerable display of invention and ingenuity.
The cabin of a three thousand ton vessel, or of an Atlantic liner for that matter, offers little luxury in the way of wardrobe accommodation. Masters, though his personal luggage did not rival in extent that of Beau Brummel, yet found himself in difficulties. He turned to his companion; said:
"I shall be inside a lot too. As a matter of fact, I'm finishing a book; have a lot of writing to do. So you won't be altogether alone."
"That's jolly!"
"Lend a hand here, old fellow, will you? See if we can shove this portmanteau under."
Dick was only too glad to be of service; willingly rendered aid in the stowing away of things. Later followed suit with his own stuff. Masters was intent on keeping his companion occupied even with the smallest matters.