Not being a judge of character, the little man stole further worshiping glances as Bully grandly lighted his cigarette and snapped the match away. Being an excellent judge of character and delighting in posing, Bully was not slow to detect the point-blank admiration of his seatmate, and to delight in it.
“Fine weather, ain’t it?” he remarked condescendingly. “Goin’ to Fardale?”
Ezra Hostetter jumped, then stammered out an overjoyed assent:
“Yes, I’m going to buy a laundry there, Mr.—— Mr.——”
“Carson,” prompted Bully, settling his thumbs in his vest and leaning back. “Ed Carson, of Carsonville. I’m glad to meet you, Mr.——”
“Hostetter, Ezra Hostetter,” said the dried-up little laundryman.
Bully positively basked during the next few moments. He had had little opportunity to do any basking around home, of late, and the chance was too good to be missed. And since he could also be very genial when he chose, he soon fell into a conversation with Hostetter which was extremely pleasant on both sides.
He did not uncase his splendor all at once, however. Having seen the simplicity of his companion’s heart, he began to take a keen delight in letting him discover his grandeur by degrees.
It seemed that Hostetter had heard of Colonel Carson, and, upon discovering that he was talking with that famous man’s son, his admiration eclipsed all bounds. After a little he ventured a timid query as to Bully’s profession.
“I’m a ball player,” announced Bully, with quiet dignity. “Not a professional, y’ understand, though I may consider an offer from the Giants this summer.”