“Cathedral!” sneered Tom Platt.  “Oh, if it had bin even the Fish C’mmission boat instid of this bally-hoo o’ blazes.  If we only hed some decency an’ order an’ side-boys when she goes over!  She’ll have to climb that ladder like a hen, an’ we—­we ought to be mannin’ the yards!”

“Then Harvey was not mad,” said Penn, slowly, to Cheyne.

“No, indeed—­thank God,” the big millionaire replied, stooping down tenderly.

“It must be terrible to be mad.  Except to lose your child, I do not know anything more terrible.  But your child has come back?  Let us thank God for that.”

“Hello!” cried Harvey, looking down upon them benignly from the wharf.

“I wuz mistook, Harve.  I wuz mistook,” said Disko, swiftly, holding up a hand.  “I wuz mistook in my jedgments.  Ye needn’t rub in any more.”

“Guess I’ll take care o’ that,” said Dan, under his breath.

“You’ll be goin’ off naow, won’t ye?”

“Well, not without the balance of my wages, ’less you want to have the ‘We’re Here’ attached.”

“Thet’s so; I’d clean forgot”; and he counted out the remaining dollars.  “You done all you contracted to do, Harve; and you done it ’baout’s well as if you’d been brought up—­” Here Disko brought himself up.  He did not quite see where the sentence was going to end.

“Outside of a private car?” suggested Dan, wickedly.

“Come on, and I’ll show her to you,” said Harvey.

Cheyne stayed to talk with Disko, but the others made a procession to the depot, with Mrs. Cheyne at the head.  The French maid shrieked at the invasion; and Harvey laid the glories of the “Constance” before them without a word.  They took them in in equal silence—­stamped leather, silver door-handles and rails, cut velvet, plate-glass, nickel, bronze, hammered iron, and the rare woods of the continent inlaid.

“I told you,” said Harvey; “I told you.”  This was his crowning revenge, and a most ample one.

Mrs. Cheyne decreed a meal, and that nothing might be lacking to the tale Long Jack told afterwards in his boarding-house, she waited on them herself.  Men who are accustomed to eat at tiny tables in howling gales have curiously neat and finished manners; but Mrs. Cheyne, who did not know this, was surprised.  She longed to have Manuel for a butler; so silently and easily did he comport himself among the frail glassware and dainty silver.  Tom Platt remembered the great days on the Ohio and the manners of foreign potentates who dined with the officers; and Long Jack, being Irish, supplied the small talk till all were at their ease.

In the ‘We’re Here’s’ cabin the fathers took stock of each other behind their cigars.  Cheyne knew well enough when he dealt with a man to whom he could not offer money; equally well he knew that no money could pay for what Disko had done.  He kept his own counsel and waited for an opening.

“I hevn’t done anything to your boy or fer your boy excep’ make him work a piece an’ learn him how to handle the hog-yoke,” said Disko.  “He has twice my boy’s head for figgers.”