Again the doctor shook his head. "I'd like it, more than a little, but I've got to stick to my post."
Captain Stubbs began on his pie, and remarked, "The trouble with you is that you're mixed up with too many wimmen."
Anthony's head went up. "What do you mean?"
"Wimmen," said the little captain, "are bad enough anyhow. But when you have to handle a lot of wimmen with nerves, then the Lord help you."
He said it so solemnly that Anthony threw back his head and laughed.
"Now, up at that sannytarium of yours," said the captain, "there's about ten of them that need to be dipped into the good salt sea and hung up in the sun to dry, and that's all they need, no coddling and medicine and operations—but just a cold shock and a warm-up—and a day's fishin'."
And now Anthony did not laugh. "By Jove," he said, "I believe you're right. I'm going to try some personally conducted parties, and you shall take them out, captain——"
"Me——?" the captain demanded, incredulously. "Me take those wimmen out fishin'?"
Anthony nodded. "Yes, once a week. Is it a bargain?"
The captain stood up. "No, it ain't," he said, firmly. "I'll take you and gladly. But not any of that nervous bunch."