He went, but, instead of helping the situation, he merely made it worse. He found John seated at his office desk apparently engaged in his old occupation, that of looking out of the window. The young man's face was pale and drawn, but his manner was perfectly calm.
“Hello, Captain,” he observed, as his caller entered. “I trust you've taken the necessary precautions, fumigated and all that sort of thing.”
“Fumigated?”
“Why, yes. Unless I'm greatly mistaken, this office is destined to become the den of the moral leper. As soon as my respected fellow-townsmen, the majority of them, learn that I am to battle with Heman the Great, and in such a cause, I shall be shunned and, so to speak, spat upon. You're taking big chances by coming here.”
The captain grunted. “Umph!” he sniffed. “They don't know it yet; neither do I.”
“Ah yes, but they will shortly. Daniels will take care that they do.”
“John, for thunder sakes—”
“Better escape contagion while you can, Captain. Unclean! Unclean!”
“Aw, belay, John! I don't feel like jokin'. What you've got to tell me now is that it ain't so. You ain't goin' to—to try to—to—”
His friend interrupted. “Captain Bangs,” he said, sharply, “this is a practical world we live in. You and I have had that preached to us; at least I have and you were present during the sermon. I don't know how you feel, of course; but henceforth I propose to be the most practical man you ever saw.”