“Captain Kempt, I am delighted to meet you again. My name is Drummond—Lieutenant Drummond, and I had the pleasure of being introduced to you at that dinner a week or two ago.”
“The pleasure was mine, sir, the pleasure was mine,” exclaimed the Captain with a cordiality equal to that with which he had been greeted. He had not at first the least recollection of the young man, but the Captain was something of an amateur politician, and possessed all a politician’s expertness in facing the unknown, and making the most of any situation in which he found himself.
“Oh, yes, Lieutenant, I remember very well that excellent song you—”
“Isn’t it a perfect night?” gasped the Lieutenant. “I think we are to be congratulated on our weather.”
He still clung to the Captain’s hand, and shook it again so warmly that the Captain said to himself:
“I must have made an impression on this young fellow,” then aloud he replied jauntily:
“Oh, we always have good weather this time of year. You see, the United States Government runs the weather. Didn’t you know that? Yes, our Weather Bureau is considered the best in the world.”
The Lieutenant laughed heartily, although a hollow note intervened, for the young man had got to the end of his conversation, realized he could not shake hands for a third time, yet did not know what more to say. The suavity of the politician came to his rescue in just the form the Lieutenant had hoped.
“Lieutenant Drummond, allow me to introduce my wife to you.”
The lady bowed.