"Who's Bob's anthropoid friend?" Brent asked, as he and the Colonel now stretched in their chairs.
"A young man from the mountains, violently in search of an education. He will be asking you every question in the range of thought, Brent, and I hope you will have patience with him. It's such a pity to see one so hungry for knowledge—really starving for it—while the whole wide board before him holds more than enough for all!"
"He's welcome to banquet on my feast of reason, but he'll get mighty tired of it. Do you think he's serious?"
The Colonel smiled at this from Brent.
"It has been my observation that believing in people usually brings out their best," he answered, "and so I think he is serious. I hope you will, also."
"You bet I will," Brent cordially agreed, burying his nose in the mint. "He's all right;—I like him!"
After a moment of affectionate contemplation of his own julep, the Colonel said:
"Bob's household will be over to dinner tonight. I trust you can be with us, sir!"
Before he could reply, Miss Liz appeared in the doorway, and both men arose with courtly bows. When Brent had arranged a place for her—and the Colonel had slipped into the house holding the telltale goblet under his coat—this severe lady, balancing on the chair with prim nicety, raised her lorgnette and observed:
"You have come home early!"