“All right,” said Will Moreraud. “Now that we’re done with the flatboat let’s go at once to the hotel. First thing is to pack baggage.” So they all set about getting their little belongings together. “What about our blankets, and the stove, and the cooking-utensils and the remains of our food supplies, and our water filter, and the fire extinguishers, and the tools?” asked Constant Thiebaud, in consternation. “It’ll take a day or two to sell them out.” “Not if we set the right man at it,” said Phil. “I’ll go and see him.” So he went to the merchant’s clerk, who instantly said:-- “Pile ’em all out on the levee there, and put a card on top saying, ‘For sale--inquire on board the flatboat.’ I’ll sell ’em and render you an account.” “All right,” said Phil, “but you’ll accept your commission, of course?” “Of course. Business is business. We never work for our health on the levee.” CHAPTER XXXVII RED-LETTER DAYS IN NEW ORLEANS Once comfortably settled at the little hotel near Dryades Street, the boys proceeded to equip themselves for seeing the city. They bought a new suit of clothes and a hat apiece, together with such underclothes, linen, shoes, and socks as they needed. Indeed, they bought more than was necessary for their immediate wants, because they would need the clothes on their return home, and they could buy them much cheaper in New Orleans than in Vevay. Phil decided to indulge himself in an overcoat, the first that he had ever owned, and the others followed his example. “Not that we are likely to need overcoats very pressingly in New Orleans at this autumn season,” said Irv, “but I for one have a lively recollection of how cold it is in Vevay every winter.” By appointment they called at the office of Mr. Kennedy, the commission merchant, the next day, for a settlement. He furnished them with carefully detailed accounts, made out by his bookkeepers, and gave them drafts on New York for the money coming to them. “You’d better send your drafts by mail to your home bank,” he said. “If you need any money for your expenses while here, I’ll furnish it, and you can remit it from home.” “Thank you!” responded Phil. “We shan’t need any money for expenses here. We’ve enough left of the money we started with, which we call our ‘campaign fund,’ for that. But how about our passage home? Do you happen to know, sir, about how much that will cost us?” “Whatever you choose to make it cost you, from nothing at all up,” answered the merchant. A query or two brought out this explanation:-- “You’ve dropped some hints in our conversations”--for he had talked with them at their hotel the evening before--“concerning your educational plans, and I gather that you want to keep all you can of the money you have made.” “Precisely!” said Phil. “Except that we mean to stay here for a week to see all we can of the city, we don’t intend to spend a dollar that we can save.”