“Oh, I’m like her brother,” said Joe. “We scrap all the time.”
“I mean, what did she say about me?”
“Said if I didn’t bring you up, she’d come down here.”
“So this has been going on some time?”
“Oh, a couple of weeks.”
“Well . . . it’s up to you,” said Harry. “You’re running that show.”
“Do you want to come?” asked Joe.
“Oh, I’m only human,” said Harry, shrugging. “I’m curious to see what the old man’s taste is. . . . But it makes no real difference. I have other interests as you know.”
Joe grinned inwardly. Does he think he’s taking me in, the jay-bird! He said, grumblingly: “Well, I suppose I’ll have to take you. I’ll get no peace until I do! . . . Look here, if there should be any trouble, can I count on you to do the right thing by me? Suppose the old man should get on to something, will you tell him it wasn’t my fault?”
“Why, sure!” said Harry, with a reproachful look. “You ought to know me better than that, Joe! . . . Make your mind, easy. There isn’t going to be any trouble. I’m the quietest little pot of tea that ever brewed on the back of the stove!”