"Wait there," the fellow called. "I want to see you!"
The heavy frame of Tom Hewlet came on, and no other word was spoken until he stopped three feet away. Swaying slightly, and looking into Brent's face with a simpering leer, in an undertone he said:
"Come over some evenin' next week."
"What for?"
"I might say it's 'cause you're so purty to look at," he guffawed at this bit of humor. "But, fact is, it's on fam'ly matters."
"You're coming apart, Tom. Go in and get some sleep!"
"I was sleepin', till a empty whiskey bottle come sailin' through the air an' hit me on my hand."
A cold shiver crawled up the engineer's spine, but he turned to unhitch the horse, saying casually:
"You'll have blue mice sailing through the air if you don't sober up."
"Don't be in a hurry," hiccoughed Tom. "Don't leave yoh would-be step-pappy without some kind of reminder. A fiver 'd go mighty fine jest now, an' you wouldn't never miss it!"