"There's no good being done when men sit and smoke over their work. Is it you, or he, or both of you?"
"Well;—it was Broughton was smoking just now. I don't smoke of a morning myself."
"What made him get up and run away when I came?"
"How can I tell, Mrs. Van Siever," said Musselboro, laughing. "If he did run away when you came, I suppose it was because he didn't want to see you."
"And why shouldn't he want to see me? Gus, I expect the truth from you. How are things going on here?" To this question Mr. Musselboro made no immediate answer; but tilted himself back in his chair and took his hat off, and put his thumbs into the arm-holes of his waistcoat, and looked his patroness full in the face. "Gus," she said again, "I do expect the truth from you. How are things going on here?"
"There'd be a good business,—if he'd only keep things together."
"But he's idle. Isn't he idle?"
"Confoundedly idle," said Musselboro.
"And he drinks;—don't he drink in the day?"
"Like the mischief,—some days. But that isn't the worst of it."