Pirate Gold | Page 2

made him a Bachelor of Arts, and a Master of Arts he had
made himself by paying for that dignity, and all this while the class
punch was fresher in his memory than Latin quantities; for these
parchment honors were a bit overwhelming to one who had gone
through his college course non clam, sed vi et precario, as his tutor
courteously phrased it. And then he had gotten out of his college gown
into a beautiful blue frock coat and white duck trousers, and driven into
town and sought for other favors, more of flesh and blood, carried his
other degree with a rush--and Miss Abigail Dowse off to drive with

him. And that evening Mr. James Bowdoin had said to him, "James!"
"Yes, sir," said Mr. James.
"Now you've had your four years at college, and I think it's time you
should be learning something."
"Yes, sir," said Mr. James.
"So I wish you to come down to the counting-room at nine o'clock and
sort the letters."
"Yes, sir," said Mr. James.
Mr. James Bowdoin looked at him suspiciously over his spectacles. "At
eight o'clock; do you hear?"
"I hear, sir," said Mr. James.
Mr. James Bowdoin lost his temper at once. "Oh, you do, do you?" said
he. "You don't want to go to Paris, to Rome,--to make the grand tour
like a gentleman, in short, as I did long before I was your age?"
"No, sir," said Mr. James.
"Then, sir, by gad," said Mr. James Bowdoin, "you may come down at
half past seven--and--and--sweep out the office!"

III.
So it happened that Mr. James was in the counting-room that day; but
that he happened also to be alone requires further explanation. Two
glasses of the old Governor Bowdoin white port had been left untasted
on the dinner-table the night before,--the one, that meant for Mr. James
Bowdoin, who had himself swept out of the room as he made that last
remark about sweeping out the office; the other, that of his son, Mr.
James, who had instantly gone out by the other door, and betaken

himself for sympathy to the home of Miss Abigail Dowse, which stood
on Fort Hill, close by, where the sea breezes blew fresh through the
white June roses, and Mr. James found her walking in the garden path.
"You must tell him," said Miss Dowse, when Mr. James had recounted
his late conversation to her, after such preliminary ceremonies as were
proper--under the circumstances.
So Mr. James walked down to the head of India Wharf the next
morning, determined to make a clean breast of his engagement. The
ocean air came straight in from the clear, blue bay, spice-laden as it
swept along the great rows of warehouses, and a big white ship,
topgallant sails still set, came bulging up the harbor, not sixty minutes
from deep water. Mr. James found McMurtagh already in the office and
the mail well sorted, but he insisted on McMurtagh finding him a
broom, and, wielding that implement on the second pair of stairs (for
the counting-room of James Bowdoin's Sons was really a loft, two
flights up in the old granite building), was discovered there shortly after
by Mr. James Bowdoin. The staircase had not been swept in some years,
and the young man's father made his way up through a cloud of
aromatic dust that Mr. James had raised. He could with difficulty see
the door of his counting-room. This slammed behind him as he entered;
and a few seconds after, Mr. James received a summons through
McMurtagh that Mr. James Bowdoin wished to see him.
"An' don't ye mind if Mr. James Bowdoin is a bit sharp-set the morn,"
said Jamie McMurtagh.
Mr. James nodded; then he went in to his father.
"So, sir, it was you kicking up that devil of a dust outside there, was
it?"
"Yes, sir," says Mr. James. (I have this story from McMurtagh.) "You
told me to sweep out the counting-room."
"Precisely so, sir. I am glad your memory is better than your
intelligence. I told you to sweep it out, and not all outdoors in."

Mr. James bowed, and wondered how he was to speak of Miss Dowse
at this moment. The old gentleman chuckled for some minutes; then he
said, "And now, James, it's time you got married."
Mr. James started. "I--I only graduated yesterday, sir," says he.
"Well, sir," answers the old gentleman testily, "you may consider
yourself devilish lucky that you weren't married before! I have got a
house for you"--
"Perhaps, sir, you have even got me a wife?"
"Of course I have; and a devilish fine girl she is, too, I can tell you!"
"But, sir," says Mr. James, "I--I have made other arrangements."
"The devil you have! Then damme, sir,