The captain chuckled.
“I presume likely you didn't throw many,” he observed. “That would be expensive fun.”
“It would,” was the prompt reply. “Cigars cost money.”
They jogged on for a few minutes in silence. Then said Captain Obed:
“Well, John, what are you plannin' to do first? After we get into port, I mean.”
“I scarcely know. Look about, perhaps. Possibly try out a boarding-house and hunt for a prospective office. By the way, Captain, you don't happen to know of a good, commodious two by four office that I could hire at a two by four figure, do you? One not so far from the main street that I should wear out an extravagant amount of shoe leather walking to and from it?”
More reflection on the captain's part. Then he said:
“Well, I don't know as I don't. John, I'll tell you: I've got a buildin' of my own. Right abreast the post-office; Henry Cahoon has been usin' it for a barber-shop. But Henry's quit, and it's empty. The location's pretty good and the rent—well, you and me wouldn't pull hair over the rent question, I guess.”
“Probably not, but I should insist on paying as much as your barber friend did. This isn't a charity proposition I'm making you, Captain Bangs. Oh, let me ask this: Has this—er—office of yours got a good front window?”
“Front window! What in time—? Yes, I guess likely the front window's all right. But what does a lawyer want of a front window?”