“Good-evening, Mr. Robbins, good-evening,” he said heartily, shaking the purser’s hand warmly. “I sure am glad to see you. You’ll pardon me for hurrying away now, won’t you? For I have a pressing job on hand. But won’t you all stop at my office later? If I’m not there you all find chairs on the gallery. Nathan will look after you.”
“Thanks,” smiled the purser. “We’ll be delighted to stop.”
He introduced Roy and the harbor-master hurried away, again apologizing for leaving them.
When the harbor-master was out of hearing, Roy turned to the purser. “Did you notice that he said ‘good-evening’ to us, and it’s only half-past one?”
The purser laughed. “In the south,” he explained, “evening begins at one minute after noon. Nobody ever says good-afternoon down here.”
“Well, I never!” exclaimed Roy. “And what did he mean by ‘find a chair on the gallery’?”
“Gallery is the southern name for piazza or portico,” said the purser.
“And did you notice how he said ‘you all’? Does everybody talk like that down here?”
Again the purser laughed. “Unless he’s just landed, like yourself, he does.”