“Ye wanter jump quick, young feller, when Mr. Barney speaks,” Job advised me.
“I know. That is the way it is with our Mr. Barney,” I replied.
“Shucks! Jim Barney’s another sort of a man from Alf Barney.”
“Not to the naked eye,” I responded, laughing. “I couldn’t tell ’em apart.”
“That’s because you don’t know either of them very well.”
“Why—I don’t know. I think I know our Mr. Barney pretty well. He’s a smart second officer and altogether a good fellow, too.”
“Smart! Why, he’s a fool to his brother Alfred,” declared Job. “They ain’t in the same class—them boys. No, they ain’t.”
“Why, I thought they were considered very much alike,” I murmured.
“Alf will show Jim, I reckon, how much better he is,” and Job chuckled. “Ye see, they useter be the best of friends, though brothers——”
“What do you mean by that?” I cried. “Hadn’t brothers ought to be the best of friends?”