“How those broker warriors did step out, in spite of Illinois Central and a sadly sagging list!  At the morning board Pacific Mail fell 3 1/2, New York Central 1/4, Hudson River 1/4, Harlem preferred 1/2, Illinois Central 3/4. . . .  I don’t care. . . . You won’t care, but the last quotations were Tennessee 6’s, 41, A 41 1/2. . . .  There’s absolutely nothing doing in money or exchange.  The bankers are asking 107 a 1/2 but sell nothing.  On call you can borrow money at four and five per cent—­” he glanced sideways at her, ironically, satisfied that she paid no heed—­“you might, but I can’t, Ailsa.  I can’t borrow anything from anybody at any per cent whatever.  I know; I’ve tried.  Meanwhile, few and tottering are my stocks, also they continue downward on their hellward way.

  “Margins wiped, out in war,
  Profits are scattered far,
  I’ll to the nearest bar,
    Ailsa oroon!”

he hummed to himself, walking-stick under his chin, his new hat not absolutely straight on his well-shaped head.

A ferry-boat lay in the slip; they walked forward and stood in the crowd by the bow chains.  The flag new over Castle William; late sunshine turned river and bay to a harbour in fairyland, where, through the golden haze, far away between forests of pennant-dressed masts, a warship lay all aglitter, the sun striking fire from her guns and bright work, and setting every red bar of her flag ablaze.

“The Pocahontas, sloop of war from Charleston bar,” said a man in the crowd.  “She came in this morning at high water.  She got to Sumter too late.”

“Yes.  Powhatan had already knocked the head off John Smith,” observed Berkley thoughtfully.  “They did these things better in colonial days.”

Several people began to discuss the inaction of the fleet off Charleston bar during the bombardment; the navy was freely denounced and defended, and Berkley, pleased that he had started a row, listened complacently, inserting a word here and there calculated to incite several prominent citizens to fisticuffs.  And the ferry-boat started with everybody getting madder.

But when fisticuffs appeared imminent in mid-stream, out of somewhat tardy consideration for Ailsa he set free the dove of peace.

“Perhaps,” he remarked pleasantly, “the fleet couldn’t cross the bar.  I’ve heard of such things.”

And as nobody had thought of that, hostilities were averted.

Paddle-wheels churning, the rotund boat swung into the Brooklyn dock.  Her gunwales rubbed and squeaked along the straining piles green with sea slime; deck chains clinked, cog-wheels clattered, the stifling smell of dock water gave place to the fresher odour of the streets.

“I would like to walk uptown,” said Ailsa Paige.  “I really don’t care to sit still in a car for two miles.  You need not come any farther—­unless you care to.”

He said airily:  “A country ramble with a pretty girl is always agreeable to me.  I’ll come if you’ll let me.”