“Is ‘old hoss’ technical?” Richard inquired without turning around.
“No, you jackass,” Jawn replied serenely. “I was referring to the nautical language. With white pants on I feel ridiculously nautical. Have you seen my white hat?”
“No.”
“Well then, have you seen your own white hat?”
“Have I a white hat?”
“How in the blazes do you suppose you can tend ‘stays’ in a real yacht race for a silver cup unless you wear a white hat? You might as well seek an audience at Buckingham Palace in overalls and blickey; or play tennis in a dress-suit; or football in pyjamas; or—you’re not listening at all.”
“Eh?” Richard came out of his reverie. “Oh! So I have a hat, have I?”
Jawn sighed disconsolately.
“What’s the use of the gift of speech,” he groaned, “if nobody has the gift of listening to it?”
“Go on, Jawn,” Richard turned pleasantly. “I’m listening. But I couldn’t get my attention away from the Moodiks. Fagner’ll have to take a reef in, don’t you think? I don’t believe he’ll go over, but he’ll waste so much time coming up into the wind; and that breeze is mighty gusty to-day.”