Word came that the congressman would be down in a few moments. The captain beguiled the interval by leaning on the rail and regarding the clerk with an awed curiosity that annoyed its object exceedingly. The inspection was still on when a tall man, of an age somewhere in the early thirties, walked briskly up to the desk.
“Who is it that wants to see me?” he asked.
The clerk waved a deprecatory hand in Captain Cy's direction. The newcomer turned.
“My name is Everdean,” he said. “Are you—hey?—Great Scott! Is it possible this is Captain Whittaker?”
The captain was immensely pleased.
“Well, I declare, Ed!” he exclaimed. “I didn't believe you'd remember me after all these years. You was nothin' but a boy when I saw you out in 'Frisco. Well! well! No wonder you're in Congress. A man that can remember faces like that ought to be President.”
Everdean laughed as they shook hands.
“Don't suppose I'd forget the chap who used to dine with us and tell me those sea stories, do you?” he said. “I'm mighty glad to see you. What are you doing here? The last father and I heard of you, you were in South America. Given up the sea, they said, and getting rich fast.”
Captain Cy chuckled.
“It's a good thing I learned long ago not to believe all I hear,” he answered, “else I'd have been so sure I was rich that I'd have spent all I had, and been permanent boarder at the poorhouse by now. No, thanks; I've had dinner. Why, yes, I'll smoke, if you'll help along. How's your father? Smart, is he?”