Captain Cobb seemed to thoroughly enjoy the looks of bewilderment and wonder exhibited on the faces of his guests.
“Why,” said McBain at last, “pardon me, but you Yankees are about the most wonderful people on the face of the earth.”
“Waal,” said the Yankee, “I guess we like our little comforts, and don’t see any harm in having them.”
“So long’s we deserve them,” put in Seth, who, at that moment, really felt very proud of being a Yankee.
“Bravo! old man,” cried his countryman; “let us shake your hand.”
“And now, gentlemen,” he continued, “sit in. I reckon the keen air and the walk have given ye all an appetite.”
Soups, fish, entries, joints—why I do not know what there was not in the bill-of-fare. It was a banquet fit for a king.
“I can’t make out how you manage it,” said McBain. “Do you keep a djin?”
Cobb laughed and summoned the cook. If he was not a djin, he was just as ugly. Four feet high—not an inch more—with long arms, black skin, flat face, and no nose at all worth mentioning. He was dressed as a chef, however, and very polite, for at a motion from his master, he salaamed very prettily and retired.
At dessert the host produced a zither, and, accompanying himself on this beautiful instrument, sang to them. He drawled while talking, but he sang most sweetly, and with a taste and feeling that quite charmed Rory, and held Silas and the doctor spell-bound. He was indeed a wonderful Yankee.