The lad then made a personal and critical examination of the
room, tried the springs of the bed, nodded approvingly, sat down
in one of the easy chairs and put his feet on the table.
Phil promptly pushed the feet off.
"Here, what are you doing?"
"This is not the dressing room of a circus, Teddy. This is
the living room of a couple of young gentlemen. Let's not
forget that. Let us try to keep our cabin looking nice and
shipshape, else Mr. Sparling will think we do not appreciate
his kindness."
"Say, Phil!"
"Yes?"
"I'll tell you what we'll do!"
"I am listening."
"We'll have a spread up here all by ourselves, tomorrow night,
after the show. We'll eat the egg. I'll get the cook to boil it
all day tomorrow--does it take a day to boil an ostrich egg?"
"I should think it might take a month," laughed Phil. "Yes; I'll
make a martyr of myself and help you eat the egg. I shall never
have any peace until that egg is finally disposed of--"
"What's going on downstairs?" interrupted Teddy.
A commotion was heard out on the dock. There was the tramping of
many feet, mingled with loud, angry shouts and sharp commands.
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