“I’d like to have heard the description,” chuckled Mr. Hall. “What was it, Pollock?”
It was Tom’s turn to be embarrassed. “I don’t just remember, Mr. Hall. This idiot was told to call on you by a friend of yours, and he’s too bashful to say so.”
“A friend of mine? Really?” Mr. Hall turned to Sam interestedly. “Who was it, Mr. Craig?”
“Mr. York said——”
“John York?” demanded the other eagerly.
“Yes, sir. He said when I got home I was to call and tell you he sent me. He said he would write to you about it.”
“Just the sort of thing he would do!” laughed Mr. Hall. “Sent you along without a letter of introduction, eh? Well, I’m very glad to know you, Mr. Craig. Any friend of John’s is my friend.” He shook hands again heartily. “Where did you meet him? Hold on, though, I must get back to the office. Can’t you come along and tell me about it? Or are you busy just now?”
“No, sir, I haven’t anything to do.”
“Then come along. We can talk better at the office. Much obliged, Pollock. And, come to think of it, I don’t know but what I’ll call off that golf to-morrow and see you chaps play instead. I suppose you’re going to pitch?”