How Bob Roberts and Tom Long asked for Leave.
Very great things come from very small germs, and for a long time afterwards Captain Horton bitterly regretted that he had been in so easy and amiable a frame of mind that he had accorded Bob Roberts the holiday he desired.
He had dined well, and was in that happy state of content that comes upon a man who is not old, and whose digestion is good.
It was a glorious night, and the captain was seated on deck at a little table bearing a shaded lamp and his cup of coffee, when Bob respectfully approached, cap in hand.
“If you please, sir—”
“Who’s that? Oh! Roberts. Here; go down to the cabin, Roberts, and fetch my cap. I don’t want to catch cold.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hi! stop, my boy! Here; lend me your cap till you come back.”
It was a very undignified proceeding, but Captain Horton had a horror of colds in the head, and would far rather have been undignified than catch one. So he took the little, natty gold-laced cap held out to him, and stuck it upon his pate.
“Bless my soul!” he exclaimed. “What a stupid little head you’ve got, Roberts.”