"If the bowl had been stronger My tale had been longer."
Steve entered Mitchell's office with the painful uprightness and precise carriage of one who has lunched not wisely but rather too well. His speech, too, was of ponderous brevity. The man of affairs chided him with fatherly kindness.
"This won't do, my boy—this won't do. I like you, Thompson. I'm sorry—I'm pained to see this. Don't go in for this sort of thing, or your good fortune will prove a curse in disguise."
Steve hung his head, muttering something incoherent about not being used to wine and that he'd soon get over it.
"Oh, young men will be young men, I suppose," sighed Mitchell tolerantly. "Tell you what. Archibald's going for a spin over to East New York. I'll just 'phone him to drop by on his way and take us along. Fresh air'll do you good."
Steve assented, and fell to poring over the immense wall map of New
York with preternatural gravity.
But Mitchell's benevolent plan was doomed to be frustrated. Hardly had Archibald arrived and the employees been dismissed, when the sordid, busy, money-making city intruded in the person of Loring.
There were merry greetings all around. The artist was much pleased to renew his acquaintance with Thompson, to whom he had taken a fancy. Loring, it seemed, was an old friend of Archibald's and was promptly invited to make one of the party.
"Oh, I can't," demurred Loring. "And I hate to spoil sport, but I've got a good thing which must be put through to-night or not at all. I ran in to get Mitchell to handle it for me. I've got the opportunity, but not the wherewithal." He made the candid admission with a delightful smile.
"I fear that you are leaning on a mighty nearly broken reed," said Mitchell. "I'm all tied up in money matters this week. But spit it out, anyhow. I've got six or seven thousand loose. If it's more than that perhaps Archie can swing it—if it's a safe proposition."