Joe came back with the umbrella, and Mr. Cummings walked to the window and looked out.
“Guess we’ll have some rain,” he said. “Must have been pretty hot over at Petersburg.”
“Yes, sir, it was hot, real hot.”
Mr. Cummings walked to the door, paused irresolutely, and turned back again. “I dare say you’ve had your supper, Tom,” he observed.
“No, sir, not yet. I’m not very hungry.”
“Oh, well, you have to eat, you know. I’m eating downtown to-night; wife’s away. Better come along with me and we’ll have something together.”
“Thanks, but I ain’t—I’m not hungry, sir, and——”
“Well, come and watch me then,” replied the other gaily. “Besides, I want to hear about the game. I’ll be back about seven-thirty, Joe. Did Mr. Wright say whether he was coming back to-night?”
“No, sir, he didn’t say. He left his light coat in the office, though.”