“Everything in New York seems to be circles,” he declared. “Well, Jim, you come up and circulate with me, first chance you get. I’m dependin’ on you to call, remember.”
The young man was still doubtful.
“I’ll see,” he said. “I can’t promise yet—perhaps I will.”
“You will—after you’ve thought it out to a finish. And come soon. I’m gettin’ interested in that second edition of your Uncle Jim, and I want to keep along with him as fast as you write. Good-by. Much obliged for the dinner—there I go again!—luncheon, I mean.”
CHAPTER XII
Pearson called. He appeared at the apartment a week after the luncheon at the boarding house and was welcomed by the Captain Elisha, who, hearing his voice, strode into the hall, sent the shocked Edwards to the right-about in a hurry, seized his friend’s hand, and ushered him into the library. Pearson said nothing concerning his change of mind, the course of reasoning which led him to make the visit, and the captain asked no questions. He took it for granted that the young fellow’s common sense had turned the trick, and, the result being what it was, that was sufficient.
They spent a pleasant afternoon together. Caroline was out, and they had the library to themselves. The newest chapters of the novel were read and discussed, and the salty flavor of the talk was as pronounced as ever. Pearson left early, but promised to come again very soon.
When Caroline returned her uncle told her of his visitor. She seemed unfeignedly pleased, but regretted that she had not been there. “He was such a friend of father’s,” she said, “that seeing him here would be almost like the old days. And so many of those whom we thought were his friends and ours have left us.”