“I had something to eat on board of the Highflyer,” said Waddie; “but my dinner has gone to destruction with the boat.”
“I have some provisions on board, such as they are; but I suppose they will not suit one who sits at your father’s table.”
“Anything will suit me, Wolf. I am not dainty when I’m hungry; and I am as hungry as a bear.”
“Well, I’m as hungry as a wolf.”
“I suppose you are!” laughed Waddie, who appeared to be conscious that I had made a pun, though I did not regard it as a very savage one.
I took from the locker under the berth on which I sat a basket of “provender,” which my mother had put up for me. For common sort of people, I thought we lived very well, and I was not ashamed to produce the contents of my basket, even in the presence of the little magnate of Centreport. I had some slices of cold ham, some bread and butter, and an apple-pie. If the crust of the latter was a little coarse and dark-colored, it was still tender and healthful. I lowered the table and arranged the food upon it, using the dishes which constituted a portion of the boat’s furniture.
Waddie did me the honor to say that my dinner was quite as good, if not better, than that which he had lost in the Highflyer, and he soon proved his sincerity by eating a quantity which rather astonished me, liberal feeder as I was. I am sure I relished the meal all the more because he enjoyed it so much. I should have added hot coffee to the feast, only we had no milk, and both of us agreed that coffee would not be coffee without this important addition.
The dinner was finished. I cleared away the dishes and restored the cabin to its usual order. By this time we were quite dry, for an atmosphere of from ninety to a hundred makes sharp warfare upon moist garments. The heat was beginning to be oppressive to me, and I opened the slide a little way, to admit the fresh air so abundant that day on the lake. I took my coat and resumed my seat on the berth, for the cabin was not high enough to permit a standing-posture. Waddie sat opposite to me. He had been in deep thought for some minutes, while I was making my preparations to breast the storm again.
I had put on my coat, and was buttoning it close around my throat, to keep out the cold and the water, when my companion startled me by a demonstration as strange in him as it would have been in the Emperor Napoleon, if I had been admitted to the sacred precincts of the Tuileries. Suddenly he sprang forward and reached out his right hand to me across the table. I looked at it in bewildered astonishment, and with a suspicion that Waddie had suddenly become insane.
“Will you take my hand, Wolf?” said he, in the mildest of tones.