While Patrick grinned a cheerful recognition and drew the cork, Mr. Waddy explained his position and the gingerbread allusion.
“I sail at two for Portland in the Billy Blue Nose,” he concluded. “Why won’t you come and see me in the States?”
“Why not? I’ll join you when you please,” assented Granby instantly. “I already have a furlough. I wish I could start to-day.”
“Come by the next steamer, to-day fortnight,” suggested Ira, “and meet me in Boston at the Tremont House. I’m really as much a stranger as you; but they all know me. We’ll see the lions together.”
“You’ll have to be a ladies’ man, for my sake,” said the major. “I’ve heard the American women are the loveliest of the world, and I’ve determined to see for myself. I thought, before I saw you, of dropping in at Newport this summer. That’s the mart, I hear.”
“Certainly, we’ll go there and everywhere,” agreed Ira. “What do you say to a partnership for matrimonial speculation? You put in good looks, good name, and glory. I contribute money—the prize, of course, to be mine.”
“You say nothing about wit,” the major pointed out. “Modest! As to good looks, these are perhaps degenerate days, but you’ll do very well for an Antinous with whiskers, and I used constantly in Rome to be mistaken for the Apollo, in costume of the period.”
“Well, Apollo, I leave you to study attitudes,” said Waddy, rising. “I must be off. Good-bye! To-day three weeks.”
“So long! Here, Pat! pack up a carpet-bag for Mr. Waddy and put in some of those short shirts. My six-feet-one beats you by three inches.”
The Billy Blue Nose was quite ready. Mr. Waddy was also ready and just stepping into the boat when he heard Sammy’s voice: