"If we should ever go into the war a fellow like you could make himself
handy in a lot of ways."
We were therefore not in the war. I was glad to add that to my list of
facts. "I should try," I assented, feeling that the words committed me
to nothing.
"Wonder you weren't tempted to pitch in as it was. A lot of our young
Americans did--chaps who found themselves over there."
"I wasn't one of them."
"Poor Drinkwater, now--he went over with me as my stenographer in the
spring of that year; and when the thing broke out--"
"He went?"
"Yes, he went."
"And didn't get much good from it."
"Oh, I don't know about that. Depends--doesn't it?--on what we mean by
good. You fellows--"
I shot him another glance, but I don't think he noticed that I objected
to being classed with Drinkwater.
"You fellows--" he began again.
I never knew how he meant to continue, for a shuffling and pawing
outside the door warned us that Drinkwater, having finished his
breakfast, was feeling his way in.
The doctor spoke as the boy pushed the door open and stumbled across the
threshold.
"Morning, Harry! Your friend here seems to have waked up in pretty good
condition. Look at the breakfast he's been making away with." He rose
to leave, since the cabin had not room enough for two men on foot at the
same time. "See you on deck by and by," he added, with a nod to me;
"then we can have a more satisfactory talk."