"You were at the Point last month. Is it true that Captain Truscott has a good deal of money now?"
"Can't prove it by me, madame," said Merrill, sententiously. "Ask Blake. He's our Jenkins. How is it, Blake?"
"Don't call me pet names, dearie. 'When my tongue blabs then let mine eyes not see,'" declaimed Mr. Blake, sauntering up to the group and swinging a long, lean leg over the railing. "What do you want to know?"
"Is Mr.—Captain Truscott rich?"
"If my individual experiences are indicative, I should say he was boundless in wealth and prodigality."
"Why?"
"He lent me a hundred dollars when I was East on leave, and I know he never expects to see it again."
"I declare, Mr. Blake, you are as bad as Mr. Ray!"
"They are scoundrels and substractors that say so of me. Mrs. Turner, you—you make me blush. Ray, come hither and bear me consolation. Friend of my youth, Merrill calls me Jenkins; Mrs. Turner calls me bad as you; and you—called me with a pair of kings when mine was a bobtail. The world is hollow, Ray."
"Mr. Blake! Will you stop your everlasting nonsense and tell us about Truscott? When were you there?"