"Load it with sugar and pineapples, and ship 'em to the States, are you?"
"But it's a gun-ship. See—where the turrets 'n' the fighting-tops will be when papa makes them."
"Oh! and so you want to be a great merchant?"
"I want to be a fighter"—articulating slowly and distinctly—"on a big gun-ship."
"Well, if ever you do, little man, I'll bet you'll be a game one, too. Is your papa home?"
"No, sir, but Aunt Marie is."
"And is Aunt Marie busy, do you think?"
"I don't know, sir, but she's making a battle-flag for my gun-ship."
"That so? I think I will call on Aunt Marie, then."
Swinging his cane and advancing leisurely, the stranger headed for the screened veranda door.