"All right. All right, my boy. Next time it will be Bustanoby's, the
Winter Garden and a three A. M. cabaret for yours. My time is coming.
Now--Well, now we'll go clamming."

He swung out of the arm-chair and walked to the top of the steps leading
down to the beach. I was surprised, of course; I have known Jim Campbell
a long time, but he can surprise me even yet.

"Here! hold on!" I protested. "How about the rest of that catechism?"

"You've had it."

"Were those all the questions you wanted to ask?"

"Yes."

"Humph! And that is all the advice and encouragement I'm to get from
you! How about those prescriptions you had up your sleeve?"

"You'll get those by and by. Before I leave this gay and festive scene
to-morrow I'm going to talk to you, Ho-se-a. And you're going to listen.
You'll listen to old Doctor Campbell; HE'LL prescribe for you, don't
you worry. And now," beginning to descend the steps, "now for clams and
flounders."

"And the Point Rip," I added, maliciously, for his frivolous treatment
of what was to me a very serious matter, was disappointing and
provoking. "Don't forget the Point Rip."