“Captain, I think the room will do. It isn’t palatial, but one can live in worse quarters, as I know from experience.”
“Yup. Well, Jim, there’s just one thing more. Have I disgraced you a good deal, bein’ around with you and chummin’ in with you the way I have? That is, do you think I’ve disgraced you? Are you ashamed of me?”
“I? Ashamed of you? You’re joking!”
“No, I’m serious. Understand now, I’m not apologizin’. My ways are my ways, and I think they’re just as good as the next feller’s, whether he’s from South Denboro or—well, Broad Street. I’ve got a habit of thinkin’ for myself and actin’ for myself, and when I take off my hat it’s to a bigger man than I am and not to a more stylish hat. But, since I’ve lived here in New York, I’ve learned that, with a whole lot of folks, hats themselves count more than what’s underneath ’em. I haven’t changed mine, and I ain’t goin’ to. Now, with that plain and understood, do you want me to live here, in the same house with you? I ain’t fishin’ for compliments. I want an honest answer.”
He got it. Pearson looked him squarely in the eye.
“I do,” he said. “I like you, and I don’t care a damn about your hat. Is that plain?”
Captain Elisha’s reply was delivered over the balusters in the hall.
“Hi!” he called. “Hi, Mrs. Hepton.”
The landlady had been anxiously waiting. She ran from the dining room to the foot of the stairs.
“Yes?” she cried. “What is it?”