“That is a very negative sort of goodness,” returned May, smiling. “However, if you must go to see some one, Jamieson is better than Smithers; but why not come home and consult with mother and me?”
“Pooh! what can women know about such matters? No, no, May, when a fellow has to go into the pros and cons of Californian life it must be with men.”
“H’m! the men you associate with, having been at school and the desk all their lives up till now, must be eminently fitted to advise on Californian life! That did not occur to me at the first blush!” said May demurely.
“Go home, you cynical baggage, and help mother to knit,” retorted Shank, with a laugh. “I intend to go and see Jamieson.”
And he went. And the negatively good Jamieson, who never led people into temptation, had no objection to be led into that region himself, so they went together to make a passing call—a mere look in—on Smithers, who easily induced them to remain. The result was that the unselfish man with decision of character returned home in the early hours of morning—“screwed.”
Chapter Ten.
Home-coming and Unexpected Surprises.
Upwards of another year passed away, and at the end of that time a ship might have been seen approaching one of the harbours on the eastern seaboard of America. Her sails were worn and patched. Her spars were broken and spliced. Her rigging was ragged and slack, and the state of her hull can be best described by the word ‘battered.’ Everything in and about her bore evidence of a prolonged and hard struggle with the elements, and though she had at last come off victorious, her dilapidated appearance bore strong testimony to the deadly nature of the fight.