“A very special friend of mine. A man I haven’t seen in fifty years. An old doctor that once sailed with me. He’s waiting to see you, now.”
“Another old pill, eh?” growled the boy, sullenly, his eyes still fixed on the girl at the bend of the road. “There’ll be time enough for Methuselah, later. Just now, it’s me for the skirt!”
The car halted. The captain stiffly descended. He felt singularly spent and old. Hal threw out the suit-case, and lithely leaped to earth.
“Dig up a bone for Sam, here,” directed Hal. “Now, I’ll be on my way to overhaul the little dame.”
“Hal! That’s not Laura, I tell you!”
“You can’t kid me, grampy! That’s the schoolma’m, all right. I’d know her a mile off. She’s some chicken, take it from me!”
“Hal, I protest against such language!”
“Oh, too rough, eh?” sneered the boy. “Now in your day, I suppose you used more refined English, didn’t you? Maybe you called them—”
“Hal! That will do!”
“So will Laura, for me. She’s mine, that girl is. She’s plump as a young porpoise, and I’m going after her!”