“Thank you,” he said gravely, “I am not anxious on that subject; and, if I were, I should wait for the appearance of the vessel itself. Besides, I cannot think it right to risk my money in the way you propose. I dare not throw away upon a mere frivolity what God has given me to use for the good of my fellows. And then, if we were to bet, as you suggest, the one who happened to win would be receiving what he had no moral right to possess. I don’t——”
Thus far the would-be better had listened patiently. But it was a bet he wanted, and not a sermon.
“I beg your pardon,” he therefore said, at this point, “I see I have made a mistake;” and with a polite bow, he moved hastily away.
One fine evening, towards the end of the voyage, as “Cobbler” Horn was taking the air on deck, he was accosted by the attendant who had arranged the transfer of his berth from first to second-class.
“The gentleman, sir,” he said, touching his cap, “who took your cabin——he——”
“Yes,” interrupted “Cobbler” Horn; “how is he? Better, I hope.”
“Much better, sir; and he thought, perhaps you would see him.”
“Do you know what he wants?” asked “Cobbler” Horn, in a hesitating tone.
“Well, sir,” replied the man, “he didn’t exactly say; but I rather suspect it’s a little matter of thanks. And, begging your pardon, sir, it’s very natural.”
“Cobbler” Horn was not offended at the man’s freedom of address, as another in his place might have been.