“That was the case exactly. The fact is, we were too drunk to go on board with the others.”
“Drunk!” exclaimed Mr. Blaine.
“Such was our melancholy condition, sir,” added Scott, shaking his head. “We were invited, in a restaurant, to drink ‘finkel,’ and not knowing what finkel was, we did drink; and it boozed us exceedingly.”
“You are very honest about it, Scott.”
“We are about everything, sir. We slept at a hotel, and when we went down to the wharf to go on board, we learned that the ship’s company had gone to Trolldoldiddledy Falls. As we felt pretty well, we thought we would take a train, see a little of the inside of Sweden, and meet the ship’s company at Squozzlebogchepping.”
“Where’s that?” asked Mr. Blaine.
“I can’t give you the latitude and longitude of the jaw-breaker, but it was at the junction of the two railways, where the party came down from the canal. We were sure we should find our fellows there, but the Swedish figures bothered us, and we made a mistake in the hour the train was due.”
“But the Swedish figures are the same as ours,” suggested the head steward.
“Are they? Well, I don’t know what the matter was, except that we were five minutes too late for the train. That’s what’s the matter.”
“How very unfortunate it was you lost that train!”