“I wouldn’t eat one for—for a new suit of clothes!” protested Clinton, earnestly.
“Allow me to return your hat, Mr. Clinton,” said the professor, politely. “I suppose you want the vegetables too. Here are the onions, and the rest.”
“They are not mine, on my honor,” said Clinton, very much embarrassed. “Here, my good man, can you make use of these?”
The sailor whom he addressed accepted the gift with a grin.
“Thank you kindly, sir,” he said, “If so be as I ain’t a-robbin’ you.”
“I have no use for them, my good man. I never ate an onion in my life.”
“Then I don’t think you know what’s good,” said Mr. Stubbs. “An onion, let me tell you, is mighty good eatin’, and healthy, too.”
At the close of the magical entertainment, Harry sang by request, and no part of the performance was more popular. He received many warm congratulations.
“Really, Mr. Vane, you sing like a nightingale, don’t you know,” was the tribute of Clinton.
“Bless me!” said Mr. Timmins; “I was so absorbed in your song that I have forgotten to take my catarrh medicine.”