Tom laughed outright as these thoughts passed through his mind, and thrusting his hands into his pockets, he started off with a "hop, skip, and a jump," and finally turned down the street that led to Mr. Graves's boat-yard. He found the proprietor in his office, and, hardly waiting to return his polite greeting, Tom seated himself in the nearest chair, and began business at once.
"Mr. Graves," said he, "you built the Swallow, I believe! What did she cost?"
"Two hundred and fifty dollars!" was the answer.
"Then I suppose the boat I want will cost at least a hundred dollars more?" said Tom.
"That, of course, depends upon circumstances," replied Mr. Graves, who was not at all surprised at these questions, for this was not the first time Tom had talked with him on this same subject. "If you want a vessel finished off in first-class style, with a nice little cabin, two state-rooms finely furnished, a galley forward, with stove and every thing complete, and bunks for three or four hands—in short, a magnificent little yacht—"
"That's just it!" exclaimed Tom, excited by his description. "That's what I want!"
"I know it," said Mr. Graves, "for you and I have talked this matter over before. I suppose your father has at last given you permission to build a boat of this kind?"
"Now, never mind my father," said Tom, impatiently. "Isn't it enough for you to know that your money will be ready the moment the boat is finished? What will a craft like that cost?"
Mr. Graves looked intently at the floor for a moment, stroked his whiskers, and replied: "Four hundred dollars!"