"You're a willin' friend, I
know. I'm running low on snuff. Get me a packet, will ye? American
Affection is my brand. Just slip it in your pocket and bring it
along with you when you come by to-morrow."
"But--but I don't know as I shall be up this way to-morrow, Cap'n
Ira. Though maybe I shall." And he glanced again at the smiling
girl.
"Course you will, or next day at the latest," said the old man
stoutly. "I can see plainly that you ain't going to neglect Prue and
me no more. And I shall want that snuff."
"Well--er--Cap'n--"
"If you don't come," pursued the perfectly sober captain, "you can
hand the snuff to Andy Roby, or to Josh Jones, or to 'most any of
the boys. They'll be up this way pretty near every day, I shouldn't
wonder."
Zebedee took the hint and the dime.
He was no "slow coach" if he was longshore bred. He got the chance
of carrying another heavy basket of clothes out to the lines for
Sheila, who rewarded him with a smile, and then he nodded to the old
man as he left.
"I'll bring that snuff myself, Cap'n Ira," he assured him.
"Don't it beat all?" queried the captain, shaking his head
reflectively, as he resumed his seat. "Don't it beat all? For old
folks, Prue, we do certainly seem to be popular.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163