"To where will we elope to?" she demanded. Her English, as she
learned it from Billy, was sometimes confusing.

"To New York," said Billy. "On the voyage there I will put you in
charge of the stewardess and the captain; and there isn't a captain
on the Royal Dutch or the Atlas that hasn't known you since you
were a baby. And as soon as we dock we'll drive straight to the
city hall for a license and the mayor himself will marry us. Then
I'll get back my old job from the Wilmot folks and we'll live happy
ever after!"

"In New York, also," asked Claire proudly, "are you directeur of
the electric lights?"

"On Broadway alone," Billy explained reprovingly, "there is one
sign that uses more bulbs than there are in the whole of Hayti!"

"New York is a large town!" exclaimed Claire.

"It's a large sign," corrected Billy. "But," he pointed out, "with
no money we'll never see it. So to-morrow I'm going to make a
social call on Grandpa Ham and demand my ten thousand francs."
Claire grasped his arm.

"Be careful," she pleaded. "Remember the chicken soup. If he offers
you the champagne, refuse it!"

"He won't offer me the champagne," Billy assured her. "It won't be
that kind of a call."