And then he's a Down-East boy. His Uncle Ethan Peasley and I were
pals together fifty years ago, and for Ethan's sake I feel that I
ought to show the boy some consideration. He's learning to hold
himself together pretty well, and if I should run into him to-morrow
I'll ask him out."
Florry exhibited not the slightest interest in her father's plans, but
he noticed that immediately after dinner she hurried up to her room,
and that upon her return she declined a game of pool with her father
on the score of not feeling very well.
"You skipped upstairs like a sick woman," Cappy reflected. "I'll bet
a hat you telephoned that son of a sea cook to be sure and throw
himself in my way to-morrow, so I'll invite him out to dinner. And
you're complaining of a headache now so you'll have a good excuse to
cancel that dinner engagement to-morrow night so as to eat at home
with your daddy and his guest. Poor old father! He's such a dub!
I'll bet myself a four-bit cigar I eat breakfast alone to-morrow
morning."
And it was even so. Florry sent down word that she was too indisposed
to breakfast with her father, and the old man drove chuckling to his
office. That afternoon Matt Peasley, in an endeavor to invade the
floor of the Merchants' Exchange, to which he had no right, was
apprehended by the doorkeeper and asked to show his credentials.
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