“Of course it makes a difference,” the other said, to fill up the colonel’s second and more persistent pause.
“Well, that’s how it is with me. If it was only myself I’d not think twice of it. But I have to consider my daughter. It’s not the same with her. During her childhood she had every luxury, but lately I’ve not been able to give her all that I’d like to, though, of course, she’s never really suffered. And just now my affairs are in such a devil of a tangle that—well, I was going to ask you if you could oblige me with a temporary loan—just a trifle to tide us over this spell of bad weather—say fifty dollars.”
The colonel looked into the younger man’s face quite unembarrassed, his old countenance still preserving its expression of debonair self-satisfaction. The money in his hand, he gave it a slight clink, and then dropped it into a worn leather purse with a clasp that snapped, and said gaily:
“This is the best medicine for low spirits. Not that mine are low—no, sir; it takes more than a temporary shortness of funds to knock out a pioneer of ’49. Whether it’s champagne or beer or water, there’s no difference when it comes to quenching your thirst, and at my age that’s all you want to drink for.”
“You’re a better philosopher than most of the pioneers,” said Gault, feeling the embarrassment that the old man seemed so complacently free from.
“Philosopher!” said the other, rising. “Why, my dear boy, I could found a school of philosophy—only where would the pupils come from? No, no; philosophy wouldn’t pay in California; too much blue sky and sunshine here. Well, when are we going to see you again? Soon—don’t forget that. Viola and I haven’t many friends—just an odd one, like yourself, here and there. Viola doesn’t go much on society, and so we let the old crowd drop; and we’re not sorry, not sorry—too many tares in the wheat. What old Solomon said about a dinner of herbs and good company being better than a stalled ox in a wide house with a brawling woman—wasn’t that it?—was right. He was a great old chap, Solomon! Brains and experience—that’s a combination that’s hard to beat.”
They moved toward the door together, and here the colonel turned on his friend for a last good-by.
“Well, so long,” he said, extending his hand and smiling on the younger man with a bland benignity of aspect that had in it something paternally patronizing. “Don’t forget that we expect you soon. We’re always at home in the evenings, and always glad to see our friends—our real friends.”
When he had gone, Gault went to the window of the outer office and stood there watching him. The faded old hat, shadowing the fringe of white hair, towered over the heads of the hurrying men who passed in two streams up and down the street.