Matt studied the pattern of the office rug a minute and then faced Cappy bravely.
“I'm obliged to you, Mr. Ricks, more than I can say; but the fact of the matter is I've changed my mind about going to sea again. It's a dog's life, sir, and I'm tired of it.”
“Tired at twenty-three?” said Cappy gently.
Matt flushed a little.
“Well, it does appear to me kind of foolish for a man with an income of more than eleven hundred dollars a month to be going to sea as second mate of a dirty little steam schooner at seventy-five dollars a month.”
“Well, I can hardly blame you,” said Cappy gently. “I suppose I'd feel the same way about it myself if I stood in your shoes.”
“I'm sure you would,” Matt replied.
Fell a silence, broken presently by Cappy's:
“Huh! Ahem! Harump!” Then: “When I came in from my club last night, Matt, I believe Florry had a caller.”
“Yes, sir,” said Matt; “I was there.”