"I've come on a curious errand," said Fred in such hollow tones that
Bones started. "The fact is, old man, I'm——"
He hung his head, and Bones laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
"Anybody is liable to get that way, my jolly old roysterer," he said. "Speakin' for myself, drink has no effect upon me—due to my jolly old nerves of iron an' all that sort of thing."
"I'm ashamed of myself," said Fred.
"Nothing to be ashamed of, my poor old toper," said Bones honestly in error. "Why, I remember once——"
"As a business man, Mr. Tibbetts," said Fred bravely, "can you forgive sentiment?"
"Sentiment! Why, you silly old josser, I'm all sentiment, dear old thing! Why, I simply cry myself to sleep over dear old Charles What's-his-name's books!"
"It's sentiment," said Fred brokenly. "I just can't—I simply can't part with those two ships I sold you."
"Hey?" said Bones.
"They were your uncle's, but they have an association for me and my brother which it would be—er—profane to mention. Mr. Tibbetts, let us cry off our bargain."