And instantly—to two people at least—the room was another place. It’s Stevenson, isn’t it?—who mentions that phenomenon we have all so many times observed—that the entrance of some certain person into a room makes it seem “as if another candle had been lighted!” Wonderful phrase that—and blessed people of whom it can be said! Of such people, certainly R. P. Burns, M.D., was a remarkable type. Nobody like him for turning on not only one but fifty candlepower.
Yet all he did was to sit down—in his customary gray suit, quite as Tom had said he would, having had no time to change—grin round the table, and say, “Going to feed me up from the beginning, Lockhart? Oh, never mind. A good plateful of whatever fowl you’ve had, and a cup of coffee will suit me down to the ground. Coffee not served yet, Parker?” He turned to the manservant at his elbow. “But you see”—with an appealing glance at his host—“I’ve had no lunch to-day—and it’s nearly ten. I’m just about ready for that coffee.” Then he surveyed again the hitherto serious gentlemen about him, who were now looking suddenly genial, and remarked, “You fellows don’t know what it is to be hungry. No one here but me has done an honest day’s work.”
“Do you mind telling us what time yours began, Doctor Burns?” asked Black, across the table.
The hazel eyes encountered the black ones for the second time. Black had been the first man Red looked at as he sat down—his greeting grin had therefore started with Black.
“Twelve-five A. M. No thanks to me. I gave the fellow blue blazes for calling me, but he was one of those persistent chaps, and rang me up every ten minutes till I gave in and went.... Excuse the shop.... What were you all talking about? Keep it up, please, while I employ myself.”
Somebody told him they had been talking about the Great War in Europe—and received a quick, rather cynical glance from the hazel eyes. Somebody else observed that it was to be hoped we’d keep our heads and not get into it—and had a fiery glance shot at him, decidedly disdainful. Then a third man said sadly that he had a son who was giving him trouble, wanting to go and enlist with the Canadians, and he wished he knew how to talk sense into the boy.
“Better thank the Lord you’ve bred such a lad!” ejaculated Red, between two gulps of coffee.
“Of course I am proud of his spirit,” admitted the unhappy father. “But there’s no possible reason why he should do such a wild thing. His mother is nearly out of her mind with fear that if we keep on opposing him he’ll run away.”
“If he does, you’ll wish you had sent him willingly, won’t you?” suggested Black. “Why not let him go?”
William Jennings, treasurer of Black’s church, turned on his minister an astonished eye. “You don’t mean to say you say that?”