The Black Day of the Voyage

All this routine Claire thoroughly learned. Always Milt bumbled up, said
cheerful things, and either hauled the Gomez over the pitch by a towline
to his bug, or getting out, pushing on a rear fender till his neck was
red and bulgy, gave the extra impetus necessary to get the Gomez over.

"Would you mind shoving on that side, just a little bit?" he suggested
to Mr. Boltwood, who ceased the elaborate smoking of cigars, dusted his
hands, and gravely obeyed, while Claire was awaiting the new captain's
command to throw on the power.

"I wish we weren't under so much obligation to this young man," said Mr.
Boltwood, after one crisis.

"I know but--what can we do?"

"Don't you suppose we might pay him?"

"Henry B. Boltwood, if you tried to do that---- I'm not sure. Your being
my parent might save you, but even so, I think he'd probably chase you
off the road, clear down into that chasm."

"I suppose so. Shall we have to entertain him in Seattle?"

"Have to? My dear parent, you can't keep me from it! Any of the Seattle
friends of Gene Gilson who don't appreciate that straight, fine,
aspiring boy may go---- Not overdo it, you understand. But---- Oh, take
him to the theater. By the way; shall we try to climb Mount Rainier
before----"

"See here, my good dolly; you stop steering me away from my feeble
parental efforts. Do you wish to be under obligations----"

"Don't mind, with Milt. He wouldn't charge interest, as Jeff Saxton
would. Milt is, oh, he's folks!"