Young Breen looked down the length of the table, watched for a moment a couple of draughtsmen who stood bowing and drinking to each other in mock ceremony out of the quaint glasses filled from the borrowed flagons, then glanced toward his friend Minott, just then the centre of a cyclone that was stirring the group midway the table.
“Come over here, Garry,” he called, half rising to his feet to attract his friend's attention.
Minott waved his hand in answer, waited until the point of the story had been reached, and made his way toward Peter's end of the table.
“Garry,” he whispered, “I want to introduce you to Mr. Grayson—the very dearest old gentleman you ever met in your whole life. Sits right next to me.”
“What, that old fellow that looks like a billiard ball in a high collar?” muttered Minott with a twinkle in his eye. “We've been wondering where Mr. Morris dug him up.”
“Hush,” said Breen—“he'll hear you.”
“All right, but hurry up. I must say he doesn't look near so bad when you get close to him.”
“Mr. Grayson, I want you to know my friend Garry Minott.”
Peter rose to his feet. “I DO know him,” he said, holding out his hand cordially. “I've been knowing him all the evening. He's made most of the fun at his end of the table. You seem to have flaunted your Corn Exchange banner on the smallest provocation, Mr. Minott,” and Peter's fingers gripped those of the young man.
“That's because I've been in charge of the inside work. Great dinner, isn't it, Mr. Grayson. But it's Britton who has made the dinner. He's more fun than a Harlem goat with a hoopskirt. See him—that's Brit with a red head and blue neck-tie. He's been all winter in Wisconsin looking after some iron work and has come back jam full of stories.” The dignity of Peter's personality had evidently not impressed the young man, judging from the careless tone with which he addressed him. “And how are you getting on, Jack—glad you came, ar'n't you?” As he spoke he laid his hand affectionately on the boy's shoulder. “Didn't I tell you it would be a corker? Out of sight, isn't it? Everything is out of sight around our office.” This last remark was directed to Peter in the same casual way.