"Well, Simon, here's a pretty kettle of fish!"
"There are several kettles of fish. Which do you mean?"
"Well—Billy Graham's, to commence with. He was around to see me an hour ago—"
"Was he sober?"
"Of course he was, don't be too unjust, Simon! Graham doesn't make a practice of drinking, and if he took one or two too many last evening, as he admits he did, I for one don't blame him. That confounded pup Langhorn told him what he overheard—"
"I know—I know all that. I have fired Langhorn and I have fired Graham." Simon's jaw tilted truculently. "What about it?"
"That's what I've come to ask. What about it? If you keep on at this rate, another week will see you down to bed-rock—reduced to one partner and one idle tannery. And some one seems determined to burn that up piecemeal!"
"I didn't see you there last night."
"No, thank goodness, I was in blissful ignorance of our latest trouble. We have guests, you know. Mary and I took the Krechs to Barney's road house just to give them a taste of night-life in Hambleton. Mr. Krech and Barney spent the evening extemporizing cocktails—"
"I'm not interested in your orgies. What did Graham have to say this morning?"