THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
crawled into his berth and lay there, thinking. He finally came to the conclusion to say nothing. His wallet, thirty dollars, and a few useless odds and ends were gone. But the next time any one jumped on his back he was going to lie down swiftly; and then woe to the man he turned over on! Which was very good counter jiu-jitsu, had he but known it.
He was late the next morning, and when he arrived on deck he found his school-teacher playing shuffleboard with Camden. They were laughing and jesting, and the girl's cheeks were dyed with color. William's "good morning" lacked its accustomed grin. He was not without a commendable sense of justice. Why didn't he like this man Camden, against whom he could find nothing save that he wore his clothes to the manner born, that he was slender, elegant, good-looking, was as much at ease with women as with men, and that nothing ever seemed to disturb his equanimity? "He's the canary in the aviary, and I'm the bull in the china-shop," was William's commentary. Was it the disparity in grace and outward appearance that set in motion this subtle antagonism? William always denied vehemently that he was ever stirred by class prejudice; and I honestly believe he was free of this incurable canker. Doubtless the feeling was, as I have already remarked, a matter of plain male jealousy.
The two finished the game, and Camden extended the stick to William.
"Try a game?"
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