THE CAT'S HOLIDAY
uncertain voice broke the silence, mumbling:
"'E jolted me proper, didn't 'e?"
The sailor stirred, rolled over, and with a heave of white shoulders, sat up, grinning, dazed and sheepish.
"I give ye best man," he announced to the general world. Catching Owen's eye, he nodded, feebly but amiably. "If I'd kept off the drink this week past, p'raps ye wouldn't be, guvnor. 'E's your cat."
Scarlett would have snatched the prize and run; but a late comer from the docks had seen the ship leave half an hour before. Laura was gone; his new acquaintances thronged about him, with artless compliments; so yielding to pressure, he adjourned with them to a disreputable small hotel, where they had a capital dinner of French cookery in a tiny closed garden, with good liquor, songs, and curious tales from many ports. They broke up at three in the
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