seeing Disko off,” said Harvey; “and Monday’s Memorial Day. Let’s stay over that, anyway.”
“What is this memorial business? They were talking about it at the boardinghouse,” said Cheyne weakly. He, too, was not anxious to spoil the golden days.
“Well, as far as I can make out, this business is a sort of song-and-dance act, whacked up for the summer boarders. Disko don’t think much of it, he says, because they take up a collection for the widows and orphans. Disko’s independent. Haven’t you noticed that?”
“Well—yes. A little. In spots. Is it a town show, then?”
“The summer convention is. They read out the names of the fellows drowned or gone astray since last time, and they make speeches, and recite, and all. Then, Disko says, the secretaries of the Aid Societies go