"Of course you are," he said. "I was always a hot-tempered brute; I'm sorry."
And the two parted on the best of terms.
After about a year, when both Errington and Burroughs had began to get a grip of their work, the former came home from the office one evening, and seeking his chum in the little den they shared, said in a tone of elation--
"I say, old man, I'm getting on. They're going to raise my screw and transfer me to Sui-Fu.
"Under Reinhardt?" asked Burroughs quickly.
"Yes. I shouldn't wonder if he got me the crib. He has to be away a great deal, and though there's a capable comprador, they seem to think a European ought to be on the spot. I wish you were coming too."
"I should like it. It's a lift for you, Pidge, and I'm glad."
Errington talked on in his impulsive way about what he would do, and how he would make things hum, while Burroughs listened and said little. He had already made up his mind to go with Errington if possible; scarcely confessing it even to himself, he wanted to keep an eye on his friend when he came directly under the influence of the German; but he did not wish to hint at the possibility of arranging a transfer for himself until he had spoken to his father.
Late that night, when the rest had retired, he went to his father's study.
"Well, Ted, what is it?" said Mr. Burroughs, looking up from some papers.