“Torchy,” says he, “how is your bump of diplomacy today?”

“It’s a dimple, I expect,” says I.

“You’re entirely too modest,” says he.  “Now, I remember several occasions when you have——­”

“Oh, I gen’rally have my nerve with me, if that’s what you mean,” says I.

“But I don’t mean that,” says he.  “Perhaps finesse is the better word.”

“It’s all the same to me,” says I.  “If I’ve got it in stock, it’s yours.  What do I work it on?”

“Mr. Higgins,” says he.

“Then score up a goose egg in advance,” says I.  “It would take a strong-arm hypnotizer to put the spell on Ira.”

Mr. Robert grins.  “Then you have already tested Mr. Higgins’ conversational powers?” says he.

“Almost lost my voice gettin’ him to say good mornin’,” says I.  “Say, you’d think he’d done all his talkin’ by cable, at a dollar a word.  Where’d he drift in from, anyway?”

“Boothbay Harbor,” says Mr. Robert.

“Is that a foreign country,” says I, “or a nickname for some flag station?”

“It’s quite a lively little seaport, I believe,” says Mr. Robert, “up on the coast of Maine.”

“Oh, Maine!” says I.  “Up there they’re willin’ to call a town anything that’ll get a laugh.  But what’s the rest of the scandal?”

It wasn’t any thrillin’ tale, though.  Seems Mr. Robert had gone into the yachtin’ regattas as usual this last summer; but, instead of liftin’ the mugs, as he’d been in the habit of doin’, he’d been beat out by a new entry,—­beat bad too.  But he wouldn’t be an Ellins if he let it go at that.  Not much!  His first move is to find out who built the Stingaree, and his next is to wire in an order to the same firm to turn out a sixty-footer that’ll go her just one better.  Not gettin’ any straight answer to that, he sends word for the head of the yacht works to come on at his expense.  Mr. Higgins is the result.

“But the deuce of it is,” says Mr. Robert, “that, while I’m convinced he is the cleverest designer of racing yawls that we have in the whole country, and while he admits quite cheerfully that he can improve on this year’s model, I can’t get him to say positively that he will build such a boat for me.”

“Yes, I should expect that would be more’n he’d let go of all in one day,” says I.

“But, confound it all!” says Mr. Robert, “I want to know now.  All I can get out of him, though, is that he can’t decide for a while.  Seems to have something or other on his mind.  Now, if I knew what was bothering him, you see, I might—­well, you get the point, Torchy.  I’m going to leave it to you to find out.”

“Me!” says I.  “Gee!  I ain’t any thought extractor, Mr. Robert.”

“But you have rather a knack of getting to the bottom of things,” he insists, “and if I should explain to Mr. Higgins my regret at being unable to take him out to dinner, and should present you as my substitute for the evening—­why, you might get some hint, you see.  At least, I wish you’d try it.”