h other at the table, with a jug between us for a
buoy, so's to speak. We talked old times and spun yarns, and the tide
went out in the jug consider'ble sight faster than 'twas ebbing on the
flats. After a spell I asked him about the man that owned the yacht.

"'Who? Oh--er--Brown?' he says. 'Why, he's--'

"'Brown?' says I. 'Thought you said 'twas Jones?'

"Well, that kind of upset him, and he took some cherry-rum to grease his
memory. Then I asked more questions and he tried to answer 'em, and got
worse tangled than ever. Finally I had to laugh.

"'Look here, Ben,' says I. 'You can't fetch port on that tack. The
truth's ten mile astern of you. Who does own that yacht, anyway?'

"He looked at me mighty solemn--cherry-rum solemn. 'Obed,' he says,
'you're a good feller. Don't you give me away, now, or I'll lose my
berth. The man that owns that yacht's named Davidson, and he's got a
summer place right in this town.'

"'Davidson!' says I. 'DAVIDSON? Not young Allie Davidson?'

"'That's him,' says he. 'And he's the blankety blankest meanest low-down
cub on earth. There! I feel some better. Give me another drink to take
the taste of him out of my mouth.'

"'But young Davidson's gone to Boston,' I says. 'Went this morning.'

"'That be hanged!' says Ben. 'All I know is that I got a despatch from
him at Newport on Monday afternoon, telling me to have the yacht abreast
this town at twelve o'clock to-night, 'cause he was coming off to her
then in his launch with a friend. Friend!' And he laughed and winked his
starboard eye.

"I didn't say much, being too busy thinking, but Ben went on telling
about other cruises with 'friends.' Oh, a steam-yacht can be a
first-class imitation of hell if the right imp owns her. Henry got
speaking of one time down along the Maine coast.

"'But,' says I, referring to what he was telling, 'if she was such a
nice girl and come from such nice folks, how--'

"'How do I know?' says he. 'Promises to marry and such kind of lies, I
s'pose. And the plain fact is that he's really engaged to marry a swell
girl in Newport.'

"He told me her name and a lot more about her. I tried to remember the
most of it, but my head was whirling--and not from cherry rum,
either. All I could think was: 'Obed, it's up to you! You've got to do
something.'

"I was mighty glad when the sailors hailed from the shore and Ben had to
go. He 'most cried when he said good-by, and went away stepping high and
bringing his