"That's jus' what I does do!" says the lad. "Doesn't I, Anthony Lot?"
"You got it right, Sammy," says Anthony. "You can't hear too much about your wonderful pa."
"You hears a lot, Sammy," says the skipper.
"Oh, ev'body knows my pa," says the lad, "an' ev'body spins me yarns about un."
"Jus' so," says the skipper, gone doleful. "I sees."
"Talkin' about my pa," says the lad, turnin' t' me, then, "I bet ye he could blow one o' them little black things better 'n you."
"He could play the flute, too!" says I.
"Well, I never been tol' so," says the lad; "but 'twould not s'prise me if he could. Could he, Anthony Lot?—could my pa play the flute?"
"He could."
"Better 'n this man?"