“Stranger about here?” inquired the youth of Harvey, casually, giving him a quick, sharp, sidelong glance, as he spoke.
“Yes,” replied Harvey; “I am here only for the day. My father and mother just went off on that liner for Europe.”
“Is that so!” responded the other. At the same moment he fell behind Harvey and gave him another sharp, scrutinizing glance from head to foot. Then he added, “So that leaves you all alone, to do as you please, eh?”
Harvey assented. It was his turn to question now.
“You live about here?” he asked; and looked his companion in the face. It was an uncertain glance that met his. The small, dark eyes of the stranger gave him no direct, answering glance, but shifted evasively.
“Oh, yes,” he responded; “lived here all my life. We’re one of the old families here, but—” and he gave a slighting look at his well worn clothing—“but we’ve had financial embarrassments lately. The fact is, I’ve had to drop out of college for a year—”
The youth was interrupted for a moment at this point. He and Harvey, walking forward on the vessel, had come upon two men who were sitting on the deck by the forecastle. One of them, looking up, burst into a laugh. Harvey turned, quickly.
Whatever it was that had amused the man was not apparent. As Harvey turned and looked at him, he stopped abruptly and pointed off across the water. Harvey, led by his companion, started aft again.
As the two reversed their steps, the man who had laughed pointed slyly at Harvey’s escort.
“He’s a slick one, is Artie,” he said. “Catches more of ’em, they say, than any runner along the front.”