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"Let's drink his health onst." They did so twice. Old man Greiffenhagen's was about two miles distant. With him lodged Miss Edna Parkinson and Miss Mary Willing. These young ladies were bosom friends, and members of the Women's Christian Temperance Union. We describe them adequately enough by adding that they were capable, pretty and good.
And then you know, as we got out into the Atlantic this side of Cape Verde, the ship began to go to pieces. I don't pretend for one moment to understand what happened. But I think Greiffenhagen's recent work on the effects of radium upon ligneous tissue does rather carry out my idea that emanations from quap have rapid rotting effect upon woody fibre.
He slipped out of his bunk. "Me too," said Jimmie. He glanced at Pete, who lay still. "My regards to the Perfessor, and tell him that he'll find us at old man Greiffenhagen's. I'll hev one more taste of happiness before I die." Dan hauled out his battered trunk and opened it. Pete sat up. "Talkin' o' tasting, so will I," said he. "Give me that ther demijohn. I'll die like the Dook o' Clarence."
And then he would go downstairs again, down to newspapers and fires, toast and tea, the large print of Frith's "Railway Station," and the coloured supplement of Greiffenhagen's "Idyll," and the tattered numbers of the Windsor and the Strand magazines, and, behold, all these things were real and all the things in the nursery unreal. Could it be that both worlds were real?
Greiffenhagen, an impassioned pessimist, was of opinion that they couldn't last another hour! At nine, when our nerves had been strained to breaking-point, Ajax and a big-bearded stranger galloped up to Greiffenhagen's house. "It's Doc. Elkins, of San Lorenzy," said a hired man. "The boys are sinking!" sobbed Mrs. Greiffenhagen. "Where is the Professor?" "I left him in San Lorenzo."
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