"Are you ill?"
"Never better. I could at this present moment sit upon your fat and
florid carcass."
"Well, what then is wrong? I say, you haven't--it isn't a girl, is it?"
"Nothing so lucky for a bloomin' Colonial in this land of wealth and
culture. If I only dared!"
"There's something," insisted Linklater; "but I've no doubt it
will develop. Meantime let us go out, and, in your own picturesque
vocabulary, let us 'hit the flowing bowl.'"
"No, Sir!" cried Martin emphatically. "No more! I am on the water wagon,
and have been all summer."
"I knew it was something," replied Linklater gloomily, "but I didn't
think it was quite so bad as that. No wonder you've had a hard summer!"
"Best summer ever!" cried Martin. "I only wish I had started two years
ago when I came to this bibulous burgh."
"How came it? Religion?"
"No; just horse sense, and the old chief."
"Dunn!" exclaimed Linklater. "I always knew he was against that sort of
thing in training, but I didn't think he would carry it to this length."
"Yes, Dunn! I say, old boy, I've no doubt you think you know him, I
thought so, too, but I've learned some this summer. Here's a yarn, and
it is impressive. Dunn had planned an extensive walking tour in the
Highlands; you know he came out of his exams awfully fagged.
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