"No, I think she rather favored you!" I replied gravely.
"No chance! And I say, isn't Sally a humdinger? Just the sort for
me--something doing every minute. And a fellow can always tell just
what she's thinkin'----"
"I'm not right sure, Cal, whether that's safe to say of any woman,"
said I. "A ship on the sea, or a serpent on a rock has--to use your
own quaint manner of speech, my friend--so to speak, nothing on the
way of a maid with a man. But go on. I do congratulate you. Do you
know, old man, I almost thought, once--a good while ago--that you were
just a little--that is--épris of Helena your own self?"
"Come again? 'Apree'--what's that?"
"--Gone on her."
"Oh, not at all, not at all--not in the least! Why, I can't see what
in the world--oh, well of course, you know, she's fine; but what I
mean is, why--there was Sally, you know. Say, do you know why I wanted
to get Sally away on that boat?--I was afraid you'd cut in somewhere,
run across her down at Mardi Gras, or something. And I just figured,
once you got a girl on a boat that way, away from all the other
fellows, you know, why even a plain chap like me would have a chance,
do you see? And I say now, I'll own it up--I was right down jealous
of you, too! Wasn't it silly? And I ask your pardon. You're an
awfully good sort, Harry, though you're so d----d serious--you get too
much in earnest, take things too hard, you know. Will you shake hands
with me, knowing what a fool I've been? I say, you're the best chap in
the world, old man--if only you were a little more human once in a
while."
He put out his hand and I met it. "Will you shake hands with me, Cal?"
said I, "on precisely those same terms about having been an awful
fool? It's you who are the best chap in the world. And I'll admit
it--I was jealous of you!"
He roared at this. "Well," said he, "as George Cohan says, 'All's well
that ends well', and I guess we couldn't beat this for a championship
year, now could we? Now say, about Dingleheimer----"
"Oh, hang Dingleheimer, Cal!" I exclaimed. "What I want to know is,
did you ever talk any to Miss Emory about--well, about me, you
know?--say anything about my affairs, or anything, you know? I mean
while you were there on the boat together."
"No. She wouldn't let me. Besides, the truth is, I was so full of
Sally all the time, I mostly talked about her. By Jove! that was a
measly trick you played us, running off with the boat from under my
nose! But I proposed to Sally in Natchez that night, and she came on
down to the city the next day by rail--while I ran down in that
dirty little scow you left behind. And I never tumbled for days that
it was you had run off with the boat--though I found a photo of
Helena and your cigarette case in the boat you left. Never tumbled
till that story of the taxi driver came out. Then I said, 'Well, of
all things! Wonder if that old stick has really come to life after
all!' And you sure had! What's in your letter? Say, ain't a boat the
place----"