His voice died away. "You've got the same idea," observed Blagden, "as the man who said that the country boy comes to the city and works hard all his days to earn enough so that at the end of his life he can go back and live in the country again."
"And he was right!" cried Mills. "That's the absolute truth. This money game is all rot. I want the country again. The grass and the brooks and the trees, the singing of the birds, the sweep of the sky over the hills, sunrise and sunset--Oh God--oh God--"
Once more he passed his hand over his burning eyes. Blagden, rising, walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder. "There, there," he said not unkindly, "I never knew you had nerves. We'd better send you away for a week; I can look after things here."
With an effort, Mills regained control of himself. "Confound it all," he cried, "I must be in poor shape to act like this. Excuse me, Blagden, I'm all right now." Then, as another thought struck him, he added, "But think of this fellow Danforth that we've been so thick with. How on earth does he stand it? He's no athlete; he's not half my size. But he's stayed with us for two weeks; drink for drink; girl for girl. And I swear he's as fresh as when we started. How do you account for that?"
"This man Danforth," Blagden answered, "is a product of little old New York. And that is half the battle. But even at that, he's a wonder. All of him that isn't steel is whipcord and whalebone, and he carries a copper riveted boiler where his stomach ought to be. In short, he's a bear and a bird, and an all-around phenomenon, and as a physical specimen I take off my hat to him. But as a speculator, Tubby, he's the worst I ever saw. He's been losing money like water."
"I know he has," Mills answered. "And it's a shame, too, because he's an awfully decent little chap. I couldn't help tipping him off the other day. He was long of stocks in a market that was just going to break wide open, and I told him to get out. He did, too, and only just in time. I saved him from a slaughter."
Blagden looked troubled. "Be careful, Tubby," he admonished. "We don't want to get the reputation of being money makers; that's our one danger now. I'd rather act as if we were losing it; in fact, I think we'd better lose occasionally just to cover up our tracks. However, I guess there's no harm done. Danforth is harmless, and we owe him something for the time he's going to give us to-night."
An hour later they discovered Danforth, flower in buttonhole, spruce and smiling after three hours' sleep, displaying to the customers at Floyd & Meredith's a new buck-and-wing step in the centre of the office floor. But he desisted to greet his friends. "It's all right," he told them confidentially, "The girls got in this morning, and to-night will be one great and glorious time. They are ladies, you understand; as fine girls as you'd want to meet anywhere; but chock full of the devil, and once in a while, on the quiet--well, you understand. Take the five-thirty for Fairview; I'll meet you at the station. There's the bell; I'm short of Steel and she's going up on me. See you later." And he leaped for the ticker.
That afternoon Mills and Blagden spent at the ball game, but managed to reach the train in time, and Danforth, meeting them at their destination, whirled them away in his motor along the winding country roads through groves of pines, past fertile meadows, and by stretches of marsh where the sunset stained the pools of water as red as blood. "Lonely," said Danforth, "but I like it. And especially for a time like this. Here we are, safe and sound."
The motor drew up in front of the plain old country house, and as they followed their guide into the hall, they could see through an open doorway the table bright with silver and linen, set for six. "The girls," Danforth explained, "have been spending the day at Eastfield. They're coming over by motor; ought to be here any minute now. Just let me show you your room."