"How old are you?" asked Captain White, as he stuffed his pipe full of tobacco.
"Thirty."
"Lack-a-daisy, it seems only the other day you were born."
Justin did not reply to him. He was not much of a talker at any time, and at present he was in a reflective condition of mind in which he did not care to discuss any subject, not even the circumstances connected with his own birth.
"You have known me for a long time," said Captain White, brusquely, "do you happen to put any kind of trust in me?"
Justin struggled out of his reverie. "Yes, Micah, you know I do."
"Then for goodness' sake tell me what has brought this change in you, for, hang me, if you didn't look like all the minor prophets rolled in one when I went away. My namesake, and Habakkuk and Malachi and all the rest, would have appeared like grinning idiots alongside of you, and now I have actually seen your teeth six times since I entered this blessed door."
Justin not only favoured him with another sight of his big white teeth, that were set slab-like in his square jaw, but he burst into a low, hearty laugh.
"I guess it must be dolly, Micah."
"That's your wife."