"If you want to make it doubtful, I would," says I.
"Eh?" says Mr. Robert. "You mean— Well, I'm not sure but that you're right. I'll do just the opposite, then—suggest that he'll not like cruising, and remind him that the Corrugated has a critical season ahead of it. By the way, what sort of a boat has he chartered?"
"At last accounts," says I, "they hadn't found one that suited. You see, Auntie won't stand for a gasoline engine, and—"
"Do I understand that Mrs. Hemmingway is going, too?" gasps Mr. Robert.
I nods.
"She's one of the partners," says I. "Kind of a particular old girl, too, when it comes to yachts. I judge she wants something about half way between a Cunarder and a ten-room flat; something wide and substantial."
Mr. Robert grins. "They ought to be told about the Agnes," says he.
"What about her?" says I.
"Why," says he, "she's the marine antique that Ollie Wade inherited from his uncle, the old Commodore. A fine boat in her day, too, but a trifle obsolete now: steam, of course, and a scandalous coal eater. Slow, too; ten knots is her top speed. But she's a roomy, comfortable old tub, and Ollie would be glad to get her off his hands for a month or two. Suppose I—"
"Would you mind, Mr. Robert," I breaks in, "if I discovered the Agnes for 'em? I might boost my battin' average with Auntie; and maybe I could work Ollie for a commission."