In the lobby of the hotel a reporter came quickly up to them.
“How are you, governor?” he asked, with his eyes fastened falcon-like on Barnabas.
David returned the salutation and presented his companion.
“Mr. Brumble from Lafferton?” asked the 254 reporter, with an insinuating emphasis on the name of the town.
“Yes,” replied the old man in surprise. “I don’t seem to reckleck seein’ you before.”
“I never met you, but I have heard of you. May I ask what your business in the city is, Mr. Brumble?”
The old man gave him a keen glance from beneath his shaggy brows.
“Wal, I don’t know as thar’s any law agin your askin’! I came to see the guvner.”
David, with a laugh of pure delight at the discomfiture of the reporter, led the way to the dining room.
“You’re as foxy as ever, Uncle Barnabas. You routed that newspaper man in good shape.”