“Come again? ‘Apree’—what’s that?”
“—Gone on her.”
“Oh, not at all, not at all—not in the least! Why, I can’t see what in the world—oh, well of course, you know, she’s fine; but what I mean is, why—there was Sally, you know. Say, do you know why I wanted to get Sally away on that boat?—I was afraid you’d cut in somewhere, run across her down at Mardi Gras, or something. And I just figured, once you got a girl on a boat that way, away from all the other fellows, you know, why even a plain chap like me would have a chance, do you see? And I say now, I’ll own it up—I was right down jealous of you, too! Wasn’t it silly? And I ask your pardon. You’re an awfully good sort, Harry, though you’re so d——d serious—you get too much in earnest, take things too hard, you know. Will you shake hands with me, knowing what a fool I’ve been? I say, you’re the best chap in the world, old man—if only you were a little more human once in a while.”
He put out his hand and I met it. “Will you shake hands with me, Cal?” said I, “on precisely those same terms about having been an awful fool? It’s you who are the best chap in the world. And I’ll admit it—I was jealous of you!”
He roared at this. “Well,” said he, “as George Cohan says, ‘All’s well that ends well’, and I guess we couldn’t beat this for a championship year, now could we? Now say, about Dingleheimer——”
“Oh, hang Dingleheimer, Cal!” I exclaimed. “What I want to know is, did you ever talk any to Miss Emory about—well, about me, you know?—say anything about my affairs, or anything, you know? I mean while you were there on the boat together.”
“No. She wouldn’t let me. Besides, the truth is, I was so full of Sally all the time, I mostly talked about her. By Jove! that was a measly trick you played us, running off with the boat from under my nose! But I proposed to Sally in Natchez that night, and she came on down to the city the next day by rail—while I ran down in that dirty little scow you left behind. And I never tumbled for days that it was you had run off with the boat—though I found a photo of Helena and your cigarette case in the boat you left. Never tumbled till that story of the taxi driver came out. Then I said, ‘Well, of all things! Wonder if that old stick has really come to life after all!’ And you sure had! What’s in your letter? Say, ain’t a boat the place——”
“But how did you happen to be here?”
“Oh, I’ve known Ed Manning years, in New York, Paris, all around. He asked me to visit him some time. I wired and asked him if I could come out for our honeymoon—you know, Harry, I’m such a d——d romantic son of a gun, and once before I was out here at Ed’s, and those d——d nightingales, catbirds, what d’ye call ’ems——”
“—Mockers.”