“And if there are any titled blackguards on board—”
“You will do dreadfully wicked things to them, won’t you, little brother?”
“Humph! Thank God, I’m an American!”
“That’s a worthy sentiment, Richard.”
“I’d like to give out, as our newspapers say, a signed statement throwing a challenge to all Europe. I wish we’d get into a real war once so we could knock the conceit out of one of their so-called first-class powers. I’d like to lead a regiment right through the most sacred precincts of London; or take an early morning gallop through Berlin to wake up the Dutch. All this talk about hands across the sea and such rot makes me sick. The English are the most benighted and the most conceited and condescending race on earth; the Germans and Austrians are stale beer-vats, and the Italians and French are mere decadents and don’t count.”
“Yes, dearest,” mocked Shirley. “Oh, my large brother, I have a confession to make. Please don’t indulge in great oaths or stamp a hole in this sturdy deck, but there are flowers in my state-room—”
“Probably from the Liverpool consul—he’s been pestering father to help him get a transfer to a less gloomy hole.”
“Then I shall intercede myself with the President when I get home. They’re orchids—from London—but—with Mr. Armitage’s card. Wouldn’t that excite you?”
“It makes me sick!” and Dick hung heavily on the rail and glared at a passing tug.
“They are beautiful orchids. I don’t remember when orchids have happened to me before, Richard—in such quantities. Now, you really didn’t disapprove of him so much, did you? This is probably good-by forever, but he wasn’t so bad; and he may be an American, after all.”