"Perhaps it's bad!" moaned Charlie, and again he looked suspiciously at Scholar.
Relief showed in Charlie's eyes as the red-faced man put the coin in his pocket, handing the manager some other money in its place.
"Now you can eat your breakfast," said Scholar to Charlie.
"Me? No, can't touch it. Can't eat to-day." The relief was no better for him than the ordeal, so far as raising an appetite went.
"Your com-ish?" said the manager, smiling to the red-faced man.
"That's all right. You can give me another lump in my tea when I send over. Good morning."
"Good morning."
The manager came over to give the change himself, to chat about the weather, and the Atlantic, to ask if there had been any cattle lost coming over, how many head they had, so on, making pleasant conversation.
"You don't have an appetite," he said to the Inquisitive One.
"No," Charlie gurgled. And for all the friendly "good morning" of the manager when they did rise to go, and the friendly nod of the waitress, great was his relief to be out in the street again. He gave Scholar to understand that they could congratulate themselves on getting off like that, that it couldn't happen twice, and as Scholar continued to talk soothingly, the Inquisitive One became declamatory, and anon vituperative.