“Better,” said Thrush, after another slight pause. “I’d rather you didn’t count on me for that trip, Mr. Upton.”
“Not count on you”?
“One of us will be quite enough.”
“Have you some other case to shove in front of mine, then?” cried the ironmaster, touched on the old raw spot.
“I shouldn’t put it like that, Mr. Upton.”
“All right! I’ll take your man Mullins instead; but I’ll try my luck at that German doctor’s first,” he growled, determined to have his own way in something.
“I’m afraid you can’t have Mullins,” said Thrush, gently.
“Want him yourself do you?”
“I do; but I’m afraid neither of us can have him just now, Mr. Upton.”
“Why not? Where is he.”