But Daniel himself shut the “hatch,” that is to say, the back door. He was on his way to the stairs, but Mr. Ginn detained him.
“Hold on a shake, Cap'n,” he said. “I ain't hardly seen you yet. Let's have a look at you.” Crossing his legs—his feet were like miniature trunks—he added, “How are you, anyway?”
Daniel replied that he was fair to middling.
“Sit still and make yourself comfortable, Labe,” he went on. “I'll tell Zuba you're here.”
“What's your hurry? Give me a chance to catch my breath. I lugged that dunnage bag,” indicating the valise, “from the depot up here, and I feel as if I'd strained every plank in my hull. Ought to go into dry dock and refit, I had. I landed in Philadelphy a week ago,” he continued. “Quit the old steamer for good, I have. Me and the skipper had some words and I told him where he could go. Ho! ho! I don't know whether he went or not; anyhow, I started for Trumet. Got there and found you'd come into money and had moved to Scarford and was livin' with the big-bugs. Some house you've got here, ain't it! Soon's I see it I headed for the back door. 'A first cabin companion like that's no place for me,' I says. Ho! ho! Besides, I cal'lated to find Zuby Jane out in the fo'castle here. Didn't expect to locate you, though, in this end of the ship. How's it seem to be rich? Ain't got fat on it, have you.”
Daniel, amused in spite of his recent ill temper, shook his head.
“Not yet,” he answered. “So you've been ashore a week and your wife doesn't know it? Why didn't you write to her from Philadelphia?”
“Oh, I don't know. Zuby and me's got an understandin' about that, and other things. There's nothin' like havin' a clear understandin' to make married folks get along together. We write letters, of course, but we don't write very often. I'm li'ble to be 'most anywheres on the face of the earth, and it makes me fidgety to think there's letters chasin' me round and I ain't gettin' 'em. I say to Zuby, 'Long's you don't hear from me you'll know I'm all right, and long's I don't hear from you I'll know the same. We'll write when we feel like it. I'll come home as often as I can, and when I come I'll fetch you my share of the wages.' That's our understandin' and it's a good one. We ain't had a fight since we was spliced; or, if we have, I always stop it right off—stop her part, I mean. Where IS the old gal, anyhow?”
“She's up in her room, I presume likely.”
“Oh, is she? Well, she'll be down in a jiffy. If she ain't I'll go up and give her a surprise.”