"It's rum," said Bones, shaking his head, "it is rum how things get about. How did you know, old fellow-citizen, that I was going in for shippin'?"
Mr. Fred Pole did not know that Bones was going in for shipping, but he smiled.
"There are few things that happen in the City that I don't know," he admitted modestly.
"The Tibbetts Line," said Bones firmly, "will fly a house-flag of purple and green diagonally—that is, from corner to corner. There will be a yellow anchor in a blue wreath in one corner and a capital T in a red wreath in the other."
"Original, distinctly original," said Fred in wondering admiration.
"Wherever did you get that idea?"
"I get ideas," confessed Bones, blushing, "some times in the night, sometimes in the day. The fleet"—Bones liked the sound of the word and repeated it—"the fleet will consist of the Augustus, the Sanders—a dear old friend of mine living at Hindhead—the Patricia—another dear old friend of mine living at Hindhead, too—in fact, in the same house. To tell you the truth, dear old Fred Pole, she's married to the other ship. And there'll be the Hamilton, another precious old soul, a very, very, very, very dear friend of mine who's comin' home shortly——"
"Well, what shall we say, Mr. Tibbetts?" said Fred, who had an early luncheon appointment. "Would you care to buy the two boats at the same price we gave your uncle for them?"
Bones rang his bell.
"I'm a business man, dear old Fred," said he soberly. "There's no time like the present, and I'll fix the matter—now!"
He said "now" with a ferociousness which was intended to emphasize his hard and inflexible business character.