“To-day,” the commodore interrupted, “I am eighty-one years old. I am stronger——”
“Is there any prospect of an immediate rise?”
“I have never gone into the late-supper business,” the commodore answered, apparently not catching the drift of the question; “and I have always been a very temperate man. But how did you find out that this was my birthday?”
“You hinted at the fact yourself,” the reporter replied. “Will the Erie troubles——”
“The Erie troubles will not prevent me from beginning my eighty-second year with a young heart and a clear conscience.”
“And with the prospect of seeing a good many more birthday anniversaries?” the reporter asked.
“That, my dear boy,” said the commodore, “is one of those things that no fellow can tell about.”
“Do you think that this is a good time to sell?”
“No, it’s never a good time to sell after banking-hours.”
“Good evening!”