“Don’t say nothing to me, child.” Adair brandished his cane as though he was going to take Alice over his knee and spank her. “What were you trying to do,” he jumped to the correct conclusion immediately, “give me the silent treatment?”
Alice nodded her head half guiltily, half roguishly. The idea had been hers.
“Your mother tried that years ago,” Adair reminisced. “It didn’t work then, and it’s not working now. It’s better to give me an opportunity to explode,” he advised. “Volcanoes have to erupt or something terrible happens.”
“That’s what I said, sir.” Walker Jamieson agreed with the old man.
“You mean to say, to sit right there and say,” Adair exploded “that you had the gall to liken me to a volcano?”
Walker nodded his head in agreement.
“You-you-you, why, I like you!” Adair thrust out his hand and shook that of the young reporter. “You say what you think no matter how dire the consequences. Maybe you’re not such a bad reporter after all.” He said this as though he was making a great concession.
“Yes, sir. No, sir.” Walker hardly knew what to say in the face of all this unexpectedness.
“Now, come on here,” Adair turned around and addressed this to the driver. “Can’t this old jallopie do more than 15 miles an hour even when it sees its berth in the distance.” He too, pointed to the white buildings that stood out from the green foliage around them.
“Not a bad looking place, from here.” He went on contentedly. “Supposed to be one of the finest in the district, but you never can tell about such comparisons. Been fooled too many times to believe much of what I hear now. Take everything with a grain of salt.