"Anybody is liable to get that way, my jolly old roysterer," he said.

"Speakin' for myself, drink has no effect upon me--due to my jolly old

nerves of iron an' all that sort of thing."

"I'm ashamed of myself," said Fred.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, my poor old toper," said Bones honestly in

error. "Why, I remember once----"

"As a business man, Mr. Tibbetts," said Fred bravely, "can you forgive

sentiment?"

"Sentiment! Why, you silly old josser, I'm all sentiment, dear old

thing! Why, I simply cry myself to sleep over dear old Charles

What's-his-name's books!"

"It's sentiment," said Fred brokenly. "I just can't--I simply can't

part with those two ships I sold you."

"Hey?" said Bones.

"They were your uncle's, but they have an association for me and my

brother which it would be--er--profane to mention. Mr. Tibbetts, let

us cry off our bargain."

Bones sniffed and rubbed his nose.

"Business, dear old Fred," he said gently. "Bear up an' play the man,

as dear old Francis Drake said when they stopped him playin' cricket.

Business, old friend. I'd like to oblige you, but----"

He shook his head rapidly Mr. Fred slowly produced his cheque-book and laid it on the desk with

the sigh of one who was about to indite his last wishes.

"You shall not be the loser," he said, with a catch in his voice, for

he was genuinely grieved. "I must pay for my weakness. What is five

hundred pounds?"

"What is a thousand, if it comes to that, Freddy?" said Bones.

"Gracious goodness, I shall be awfully disappointed if you back out--I

shall be so vexed, really."

"Seven hundred and fifty?" asked Fred, with pleading in his eye.

"Make it a thousand, dear old Fred," said Bones; "I can't add up

fifties."

So "in consideration" (as Fred wrote rapidly and Bones signed more

rapidly) "of the sum of one thousand pounds (say £1,000), the contract

as between &c., &c.," was cancelled, and Fred became again the

practical man of affairs.

"Dear old Fred," said Bones, folding the cheque and sticking it in his

pocket, "I'm goin' to own up--frankness is a vice with me--that I don't

understand much about the shippin' business. But tell me, my jolly old

merchant, why do fellers sell you ships in the mornin' an' buy 'em back

in the afternoon?"

"Business, Mr. Tibbetts," said Fred, smiling, "just big business."

Bones sucked an inky finger.

"Dinky business for me, dear old thing," he said. "I've got a thousand

from you an' a thousand from the other Johnny who sold me two ships.

Bless my life an' soul----"

"The other fellow," said Fred faintly--"a fellow from the United

Merchant Shippers?"

"That was the dear lad," said Bones.

"And has he cried off his bargain, too?"




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