A Galahad of the Creeks; The Widow Lamport

by S. Levett Yeats

"You play a very good game--may I ask your name?"

"Oh, Sarkies--I'm in Apcoon Brothers."

"The great shipping agents--delighted to meet you--allow me to present my card to you," and Mr. Sarkies's new acquaintance drew a card from a new leather case and handed it to him.

Sarkies regretted within himself that he had not brought a card-case with him, and determined in future never to be without one. He bowed politely over the outstretched hand of his companion, and took the card between his fingers; as he glanced at it an expression of surprise came over his face.

"Captain S. Lamport, Merchant Marine," he said aloud. "This is strange."

A shadow passed over his companion's face.

"I don't see anything strange in my name," he said a little sternly.

Sarkies looked at him; there was an ugly scowl on his face, and the Armenian felt a little alarmed. "Not that, captain," he said; "only I know a person named Lamport--and she is--I mean she is a widow, and is going to be married."

The stranger's brow cleared. "Let us sit down for a bit," he said. "I am much interested--and, sir, may I ask are you the happy man?"

"Oh, no--the padre of our--I mean the Methodist church--a Mr. Galbraith."