"Not yet."
"Oh, for shame! It should not take you any time at all to decide a question like that," the capitalist asserted teasingly. "What's hindering you?"
Stephen gave a mischievous chuckle.
"I can't decide until I have heard both sides," said he. "So far I know only half the steamboat story."
"I see! In other words you think that between here and New Haven I might beguile the time by going on with the yarn I began yesterday."
"That thought crossed my mind, sir,—yes."
"You should go into the diplomatic service, young man. Your talents are being wasted," observed Mr. Ackerman good-humoredly. "Well, I suppose I could romance for the benefit of you two boys for part of the way, at least. It will give your father, Steve, a chance to go into the other car and smoke. Where did we break off our story? Do you remember?"
"Where the United States said anybody had the right to sail anywhere he wanted to, in any kind of a boat he chose," piped Dick with promptness.
"Yes, yes. I recall it all now," said Mr. Ackerman. "The courts withdrew the grant giving Livingston the sole right to navigate the waters of New York State by means of steamboats. So you want to hear more about it, do you?"
"Yes!" came simultaneously from both the boys.