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But the captain, as if nothing had occurred, continued to converse with his lady. Soon after, Frederick was in the barbershop getting a shave. "Wretched weather," observed the barber, wielding the razor with a sure hand, despite the dreadful tossing of the vessel. He seemed to be an intelligent man.
The "haiku" should be a diversion of Baseo or the boss of a barbershop. It would not do for the teacher of mathematics to rave over the old wooden bucket and the morning glory. I returned home and thought it over. Here is a man whose mental process defies a layman's understanding.
The barbershop lay aft, and nearby one could look through glass panes upon the working of the cylinders and pistons. Frederick toilsomely clambered up to the promenade deck and crept into the overcrowded smoking-room. Though it disgusted him to be wedged into a small space with a lot of noisy men, he had come here in the desire to escape the wild orgy of his thoughts.
How explain to Cupido his interest in that woman, without having the whole city know about it before sundown? Twice he walked up and down in front of the striped window-panes of the barbershop, without mustering the courage to raise the latch.
Rick looked around him as they walked to the elevators. It was a typical large office building with an arcade-type lobby. He noticed a haberdashery shop, a barbershop, a florist, a newspaper-tobacco stand, and the entrance to a drug store. The building directory was loaded with names. In the elevator, Dodd said, "Four, please." The Spindrifters were the only ones that got off at that floor.
He thought of the many times when such communications would have come in very handy indeed. "Moving down Main Street," Scotty reported. "Watch it!" Rick saw a truck come into sight and slow as it neared the barbershop. A man got out, thanked the driver, then stood looking around.
I've been listening. What's that noise?" He explained quickly. "We planted one unit in a box of cereal and Jerry put it in the barbershop." Barby gasped. "In a box of cereal? What kind?" "Crummies. Your favorite." "Oh, Rick!" The girl's voice rose to a wail. "Don't you remember the commercial? Crisp, crackly Crummies! The cereal that sings for your breakfast!" He got it, then. "Okay, Barby."
After a bath, breakfast, and a visit to the barbershop, he inquired of the hotel clerk the way to the office of Dr. Green, his mother's cousin. "On the corner, sir," answered the clerk, "by the market-house, just over the drugstore. The doctor drove past here only half an hour ago. You'll probably catch him in his office." Tryon found the office without difficulty.
He explained rapidly, and the two started to chuckle. "It should work," Scotty agreed. "Go ahead. I'll take over the watch. Hey! There he goes." The houseboater had just walked into the barbershop. Rick ran to the next corner and into the grocery store. He hesitated briefly, then picked out two boxes of cereal, and added a box of sugar. He had them put into a bag, paid for them, and hurried back.
"He got up and turned to go with DeGolyer, who held his arm, but perceiving that he had left his bundle, pulled back and made an effort to reach it. "No, we don't want that," said DeGolyer. "Yes, clothes." "No, we'll get better clothes. Come on." DeGolyer took him to a Turkish bath, to a barbershop, and then to a clothing store. It was now evening and nearly time to take the train for Chicago.
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