“Adoniram Pepper & Co. will take a holiday today,” he said, his old jovial smile returning. “First let us go to lunch.”
They were all too hungry by this time to go far before attending to the wants of the inner man; but notwithstanding that they were so far down town, Adoniram was able to introduce them to a very comfortable looking little chop house. He also, despite their protestations, settled the checks himself, and then telephoned to Brandon’s hotel and to the Marine Hospital for the luggage of both his guests to be sent to his up town residence.
“We’ll go up leisurely and give the baggage a chance to get there before us,” said the merchant, as they left the restaurant; “then Frances will know that company is coming.”
So they saw a bit of New York for Brandon’s benefit, arriving at the large, though plain looking house in which the merchant resided, just before six o’clock.
Brandon noticed, as they neared their destination, that the old sailor seemed ill at ease, and that the conversation was being mostly carried on by Mr. Pepper and himself. He did not understand this until they were in the house, and the old merchant had gone to summon his sister to meet his guests.
Caleb seemed terribly nervous. He sat on the edge of the substantial, upholstered chair and twisted his hat between his huge hands, his face and neck of flaming hue, while his eyes were downcast, and he started at every sound.
Finally, as the merchant did not return at once, Caleb drew forth his bandanna and blew his nose furiously.
“This ’ere is terrible, isn’t it, lad?” he muttered hoarsely, to Brandon, who had been eying him in great surprise.
“What is, Caleb?”
“This ’ere meeting ladies, ye know,” responded the mate of the Silver Swan in a mild roar, laboring under the delusion that he was speaking very low indeed.