"I say, Rick Dale, I don't know about taking you for a sailor, after all. You see, you are dressed altogether too fine. Any one would take you for the captain or maybe the owner if you were to go aboard in those togs."
"Would they?" asked Alaric, gazing dubiously down at his low-cut patent-leather shoes, black silk socks, and light trousers accurately creased and unbagged at the knees. Besides these he wore a vest and sack-coat of fine black serge, an immaculate collar, about which was knotted a silk neck-scarf, and a narrow-striped cheviot shirt, the cuffs of which were fastened by gold sleeve-links. Across the front of his vest, from pocket to pocket, extended a slender chain of twisted gold and platinum, at one end of which was his watch, and at the other a gold and platinum pencil-case.
"Yes, they would," answered Bonny, with decision; "and you've got to make a change somehow, or else our bargain must be called off, for you could never become a sailor in that rig."
Here was a difficulty on which Alaric had not counted, and it filled him with dismay. "Couldn't I change suits with you?" he asked, anxiously. "I shouldn't think mine would be too fine for a first mate."
"Not if I know it," laughed Bonny. "They'd fit me too much one way and not enough another. Besides, they are shore togs any way you look at 'em, and not at all the things to go to sea in. The Cap'n would have a fit sure if you should go aboard dressed as you are. So if you want to ship with us, I'm afraid you'll have to buy a new outfit."
"But I haven't any money, and you say they won't charge things in this town."
"Of course they won't if they don't know you; but you might spout your ticker and make a raise that way."
"Might what?"
"Shove up your watch. Leave it with your uncle, you know, until you earned enough to buy it back."
"Do you mean sell it?"