"I thought I'd like a breath of fresh air before lunch," said Sam.
"Oh, Bream!" said the girl.
"Hello?"
"Do be a darling and take this great heavy coat of mine down to my
state-room will you? I had no idea it was so warm."
"I'll carry it," said Bream.
"Nonsense. I wouldn't dream of burdening you with it. Trot along and
put it on the berth. It doesn't matter about folding it up."
"All right," said Bream moodily.
He trotted along. There are moments when a man feels that all he needs
in order to be a delivery wagon is a horse and a driver.
"He had better chirrup to the dog while he's there, don't you think?"
suggested Sam. He felt that a resolute man with legs as long as Bream's
might well deposit a cloak on a berth and be back under the half-minute.
"Oh, yes! Bream!"
"Hello?"
"While you're down there just chirrup a little more to poor Pinky. He
does appreciate it so!"
Bream disappeared. It is not always easy to interpret emotion from a
glance at a man's back; but Bream's back looked like that of a man to
whom the thought has occurred that, given a couple of fiddles and a
piano, he would have made a good hired orchestra.
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