“Right!” said Lieutenant Camp. “Right! What you did, you did well. I have no fault to find with you; the only hitch has been in my misinformation. I wonder,” said he, “just how that came about?”
“Sometimes,” replied George, slowly, “it chances that old men are erratic.”
Young Camp slapped his knee.
“There!” he cried. “I never gave a thought to that; and now you mention it, I have no doubt that is what’s to blame in this case.”
Here a waiter, under the personal direction of Mistress Trout, entered bearing George’s supper, smoking hot and very savory and tempting. It was placed upon a table near the fire, which had been laid with a clean cloth, much white napery, and shining table ware. With great satisfaction, George sat down to it.
“I hope,” said he to the lieutenant, “that you’ll join me. Dining alone is sometimes a tiresome business.”
But the other gestured in the negative.
“I had just finished when you rode up,” he said. “Pray go on, and pay no attention to me in that respect.”
George did as he was bidden; and he had already made considerable inroad upon the hot dishes from Mistress Trout’s kitchen when Herbert Camp spoke again.
“I should have thought,” said the latter, “that you would have come here as soon as you got ashore.”