“No, no. It tires me to ride. I’m not used to so much excitement and activity. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll just sit here and wait. Give me a book, or something, and I’ll wait for you both.”
“All right, doctor, suit yourself,” the captain assented. The relief in his voice was not to be concealed. Despite his most friendly hospitality, something in the doctor’s attitude and speech had laid a chill upon his heart. The prospect of getting away from the old man and of meeting Hal quite alone, allured him. “I’ll give you books enough for a week, or anything you like. And here in this drawer,” as he opened one in the table, “you’ll find a box of the best Havanas.”
“No, no, I’ve given up smoking, long ago,” the doctor smiled, thinly. “My heart wouldn’t stand it. But thank you, just the same.”
The figure of Ezra loomed in the doorway, and, followed by the dog, came out upon the porch.
“Sighted him, cap’n?” asked the old man joyfully. “I heered you hailin’. That’s him, sure?”
“There’s the Sylvia Fletcher,” Briggs made answer. “You’ll see Hal afore sundown.”
“Gosh, ain’t that great, though?” grinned Ezra, his leathery face breaking into a thousand wrinkles. “If I’d of went an’ made that there cake, an’ fixed that lamb, an’ he hadn’t of made port—”
“Well, it’s all right, Ezra. Now I’m off. Come, Ruddy,” he summoned the Airedale. “Master’s coming!”
As the dog got up, the doctor painfully rose from his chair. Cane in hand, he limped along the porch.
“It’s just a trifle chilly out here, captain,” said he, shivering slightly. “May I go inside?”