“All right see you later, then. Where can I find you? I’m something of an owl, myself.”
“I’ll call you up after I get home—if it isn’t too late,” Hendricks suggested.
“Never too late for me. See that you remember.”
Hanlon looked at Hendricks with more seriousness than the subject appeared to call for, then he went away.
“You got the earache?” asked Fibsy suddenly, of Hendricks, as that gentleman half absently rubbed his ear.
“Bless my soul, no! What do you mean by such a question? Mr. Stone, this boy of yours is too fresh!”
“Be quiet, Terence,” said Stone, paying but slight attention to the matter.
“Oh, all right, no offense meant,” and the boy grinned at Hendricks. “But didn’t you ever have an earache? If not, you don’t know what real sufferin’ is!”
“No, I never had it, that I remember. Perhaps as a child—”
“Why, Alvord,” said Aunt Abby, “you had it fearfully about a month ago. Don’t you recollect? You were afraid of mastoiditis.”