"'Should auld acquaintance be forgot—'" and Boggs's voice rang out in the tune he knew Mac loved best.
Mac dropped into his chair. The news thrilled him in more ways than one. Certain vague, hopeless plans could now, perhaps, be carried out; plans he had driven from his mind as soon as they had taken shape: Holland for one, which seemed nearer of realization now than ever. So did some others.
"Millionaires have their uses, Mac, after all," laughed Marny.
"Yes, but this fellow was an exception. He filled my mug and——"
"—And your pocket," added Boggs; "don't forget that, you ingrate. Again—all together, gentlemen—
"'Should auld acquaintance be forgot——'"
This time Boggs sang the couplet to the end, Mac and all of us joining in.
When all the others had gone I still kept my chair. There was one thing more I wanted to know. Mac was on his feet, restlessly pacing the room, a quickness in his step, a buoyant tone in his voice that I had not noticed all winter.
"Sit down here, old man, and let me ask you a question."