"Skipper," he says, sweet and plausible as a dose of sugared soothin'-syrup. "Skipper," he says, "Mr. Frank's proposition is to open, not a hotel exactly, but a first-class, up-to-date road-house and restaurant. As progressive citizens of Ostable, as business men, wide-awake to the town's welfare, that ought to interest you and me, on general principles, hadn't it?"
I judged that this was only Genesis, and that Revelation would come later, so I nodded and said I cal'lated that it had—on general principles.
"You bet!" he goes on. "It does interest us. Speakin' personally, I've long felt that there was a place in Ostable for a dinin'-room, run to bag—to attract, I mean—the wealthy, the well-to-do transient trade. Why, just think of it!" he says, warmin' up, "it's winter now. By May or June there'll be a steady string of autos runnin' along this road here, every one of 'em solid full of city people and all hungry. Now, it's a shame to let those good things—I mean hungry gents and ladies, go by without givin' 'em what they want. If I hadn't had so many things on my mind, if the Ostable Store's large and growin' business hadn't took my attention exclusive, I should have ventured a flyer in that direction myself. But never mind that; Mr. Frank here has got ahead of me and the job's in better hands. Mr. Frank is right up to the minute; he's abreast of the times and he—by the way, Mr. Frank, perhaps you wouldn't mind tellin' my partner here somethin' about your plans. Just give him the line of talk you've been givin' me, say."
Mr. Frank didn't mind. He had the line over in a minute and if I'd been cal'latin' that he was a frosty specimen with the water in his talk-b'iler froze, I got rid of the notion in a hurry. He smiled, polite, and begun slow and deliberate, but pretty soon he was runnin' twenty knots an hour. He told about his experience in the eatin'-house line—he'd been everything from hotel manager to club steward—and about how successful he'd been and how big the profits was, and what his customers said about him, and so on. Afore a body had a chance to think this over—or to digest it, long's we're talkin' about eatin'—he was under full steam through Ostable with the Higgins Place loaded to the guards and beatin' all entries two mile to the lap. He'd never seen a better openin'; his experience backed his judgment in callin' it the ideal location and opportunity, and the like of that. He talked his throat dry and wound up, husky but hurrahin', with somethin' like this:
"Cap'n Snow," he says, "you and Mr. Jacobs must understand that I know what I'm talkin' about. This enterprise of mine will be the very highest class. French chef, French waiters, all the delicacies and game in season. A country Delmonico's, that's the dope—ahem! I mean that is the reputation this establishment of ours will have; yes."
I judged that the "dope" had slipped out unexpected and that the miscue jarred him a little mite, for he colored up and wiped his forehead with a red and yellow bordered handkerchief. I was jarred, too, but not by that.
"Establishment of ours?" I says, slow. "You mean yours, of course."
He was goin' to answer, but Jim Henry got ahead of him.
"Sure! of course, Skipper," he says. "That's all right. There!" he went on, gettin' up and takin' me by the arm. "Mr. Frank's got to be trottin' along and we mustn't detain him. So long, Mr. Frank. My partner and I will have some conversation and we'll meet again. Drop in any time. Good day."
I hadn't noticed any signs of Frank's impatience to trot along, but he took the hint all right and got up to go. He said good-by and I was turnin' away, when I see Jim Henry wink at him when they thought I wa'n't lookin'. I was suspicious afore; that wink made me uneasy as a spring pullet tied to the choppin'-block.