had never seen precisely that twinkle in Harvey’s eye before.
“And the old man gave me ten and a half a month; he’s paid me half now; and I took hold with Dan and pitched right in. I can’t do a man’s work yet. But I can handle a dory ’most as well as Dan, and I don’t get rattled in a fog—much; and I can take my trick in light winds—that’s steering, dear—and I can ’most bait up a trawl, and I know my ropes, of course; and I can pitch fish till the cows come home, and I’m great on old Josephus, and I’ll show you how I can clear coffee with a piece of fish-skin, and—I think I’ll have another cup, please. Say, you’ve no notion what a heap of work there is in ten and a half a month!”
“I began with eight and a half, my son,” said Cheyne.
“That so? You never told me, sir.”
“You never asked, Harve. I’ll tell you about it some day, if you care to listen. Try a stuffed olive.”
“Troop says the most interesting thing in the world is to find out how the next man gets his vittles. It’s great to have a trimmed-up meal again. We were well fed, though. But mug on the Banks. Disko fed us first-class. He’s a great man. And Dan—that’s his son—Dan’s my partner. And there’s Uncle Salters and his manures, an’ he reads Josephus. He’s sure I’m crazy yet. And there’s poor little Penn, and he is crazy. You mustn’t talk to him about Johnstown, because—
“And, oh,