"I had a letter f'm Chet Timson yestidy."
John looked up at him, failing to see the connection.
"Yes," said David, "he's out fer a job, an' the way he writes I guess the dander's putty well out of him. I reckon the' hain't ben nothin' much but hay in his manger fer quite a spell," remarked Mr. Harum.
"H'm!" said John, raising his brows, conscious of a humane but very faint interest in Mr. Timson's affairs. Mr. Harum got out a cigar, and, lighting it, gave a puff or two, and continued with what struck the younger man as a perfectly irrelevant question. It really seemed to him as if his senior were making conversation.
"How's Peleg doin' these days?" was the query.
"Very well," was the reply.
"C'n do most anythin' 't's nec'sary, can't he?"
A brief interruption followed upon the entrance of a man, who, after saying good-morning, laid a note on David's desk, asking for the money on it. Mr. Harum handed it back, indicating John with a motion of his thumb.
The latter took it, looked at the face and back, marked his initials on it with a pencil, and the man went out to the counter.
"If you was fixed so 't you could git away fer a spell," said David a moment or two after the customer's departure, "where would you like to go?"