He's been favorin' us a lot
lately."
"What about that, Killam?" asks Mr. Ellins.
"Why--er--ah--" stutters Rupert, "perhaps I have. But when you see two
persons getting off by themselves and talking so much together, you
naturally--"
"Bah!" explodes Old Hickory. "Can't you remember back to nineteen,
Killam?" Then he turns to me. "So you concocted this plot story for
Captain Killam's benefit, did you?"
I nods.
"I thought it would keep him off our heels for a while," says I. "I
fed him an earful, I guess."
"Young man," says Mr. Ellins, shakin' a forefinger at me, but lettin'
his left eyelid drop knowin', "the next time I find that imagination of
yours running loose I--I'll authorize Captain Killam to catch it and
put it in irons. Now let's have luncheon."
CHAPTER XIII
WHEN THE NAVY HORNED IN
One thing about this yacht-cruisin' act is how close a line you get on
the people you're shut up with. Why, this cross-mated bunch of ours
hadn't been out in the _Agnes_ more'n three days before I could have
told you the life hist'ry of 'most everyone in the party.
I knew that the late Mr. Mumford had been a noble soul who wore full
face lambrequins and was fussy about his food. From the picture Mrs.
Mumford showed Vee and me, I judged he must have looked like an upstate
banker; but come to get down to cases, she admits he was in the coal
and lumber business over in Montclair, New Jersey.
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