Tip only grinned.
"What did you mean, fellow?" Ripley insisted angrily.
"I meant to get ye here, to let ye know what I had to say to ye,"
Scammon retorted.
"Why, confound you, fellow—-" Fred began, stuttering a bit, but the other cut in on him in short fashion.
"None o' that to me, now, Fred Ripley. D'ye hear? Me an' you used to be pretty good pals, once on a time."
At this charge, Fred winced very plainly.
"And maybe we'll be pals, now, too," Tip pursued, with the air of one who believed himself to be able to dictate terms. "That is, for your sake, I hope we are, Ripley."
"What are you talking about? What do you want to see me about?
Come to the point in mighty few words," Ripley commanded, impatiently.
"Well, now, first-off, last year, before I went away for my health—-" Tip grinned in ghastly fashion 'ye hired me to do a certain job for ye. Right, so far, ain't I?"
"Possibly," assented Fred, coldly.