"No, I don't," said Lewis, and smiled into the old man's moist blue eyes.
"And who he this?" asked William, turning toward Nelton.
"That? Oh, that's Nelton," said Lewis.
"Glad to meet ye, Mr. Nelton. Put it thar!" said William, holding out a vast hand.
For an instant Nelton paused, then, with set teeth and the air of one who comes to grips with an electric battery, he laid his fingers in Mr. Tuck's grasp. "Huh!" remarked William, "ye ain't got much grip. Wait tell we've stuffed ye with buttermilk 'n' pies 'n' victuals 'n' things."
Nelton said not a word, but cast an agonized look at Leighton, who came to his aid.
"Now, William, what have you brought down?"
"Well, Glen, there's me an' the kerryall for the folks, an' Silas here with the spring-wagon for the trunks."
"Good," said Leighton. "Here, Silas, take these checks and look after
Mr. Nelton. Lew and I will go in the carryall."
"Fancy your governor a-pullin' of my leg!" murmured Nelton, presumably to Lewis, but apparently to space. "Why don't 'e tell this old josser as I'm a menial, and be done with it."