“And Barrows wants me to give him a yacht and some polo ponies, and keep him in cigars and golf sticks.”
Haydock made an inarticulate sound of assent between puffs. He knew perfectly well that Wolcott wanted his advice, that in his characteristic way he was asking it. He also knew, for his liking was an intelligent one, how to give it.
“Well, I call it pretty nervy,” grumbled Sears.
“Oh, yes—yes—it’s nervy.” One simply had to agree with Wolcott in all minor points in order to get anywhere.
“I don’t like to have my leg pulled any more than anybody else does.”
“No, I shouldn’t think you would. But I imagine they’d have difficulty if they tried to play any little games like that with you,” Haydock added, confidently.
No one objects to being talked to this way by a slightly older person who is no fool himself.
“I’d like to see them try!” growled the other.
“They know better.”
“What do you call that, then?” Wolcott pointed with his toe to the letter in Haydock’s lap.