"Neither do I."
"You see, some sailors wouldn't be none too good for to get such a paper and then sell it for what she would fetch."
"Yes, that's the worst part of it. I shouldn't want them to think I was—was getting in on them—or trying to do so."
"The best thing to do, as far as I can see, is to call on Caleb Walton and get his advice."
"Where does he live?"
"In Charlestown, only a few blocks from the Bunker Hill monument. I don't know the number, but it's on Hill Street, and I know the house."
"Will you go with me? If I haven't the number—"
"To be sure I'll go with you, just as soon as I can set the new clerk on his proper course."
"And, Mr. Newell, would you mind—that is, would you make me a—a loan—" faltered Walter.
"Out with it, my boy, how much do you want? I told you before I'd be your friend, and what Phil Newell says he means, every trip."