Adam bowed to them both, again. He was glad to do this, as he was, in point of fact, somewhat confused as to what to say.
“There, you young rascal,” said Phipps, “that knocks away your shores and you are launched before you know it.”
“But,” suggested Adam, with an air of great solicitude for his friend’s interests, “do you really think any wild-goose chase of this description could be as solid and certain and wholesome as the ship-building business? Would I be justified in encouraging you, Captain Phipps, to leave your established business for such a wild——”
“Wild?” interposed Phipps. “You—you—now look here, what do you mean—you, by your own accounts, the wildest young scamp afloat? Wild? As if anything could be too wild for you. There is something at the bottom of all this. Now out with it!”
“Why, William!” said Goodwife Phipps, “where are your eyes? Why, Adam must have a sweetheart in Boston!”
Rust flushed hotly. His eyes would not, for all his pulling at them, refrain from dancing. He conjured up an immediate fit of coughing, and therefore held a handkerchief before his face.
Phipps looked at him suspiciously. “Is that what ails you?” he demanded. “Is that why you are so hot to remain here in Boston?”
“Now I leave it to you both, as two good, sensible people,” said Rust, artfully, “how could such a catastrophe have happened? I left Boston seven years ago, while a mere cub, and I have been here now less than that many hours. Do you think that between sunset and my coming here I could have saved some fair angel’s life—or the life of her—her—well, say her pet panther? Does that seem likely, or reasonable, say?”
“I wouldn’t dare trust you not to be saving a dozen,” grumbled Phipps. “When a man has associated with gentlemen, you never can reckon on his conduct.”
“Of course it does seem absurd, Adam, I admit,” said Mrs. Phipps, who was enjoying the conversation mightily. “I had to make some suggestion. And—oh, why, perhaps some young lady has recently arrived here from the old country. Is that it, Adam?”