“Aren’t things rosy then?”
“I never lie on Sundays. Ha, ha, ha! Perhaps it’s just as well Jinny won’t do business with me to-day. No, old man, I ought to be middling mollancholy, as they say here. But I’m as happy as the day is long—and it’s getting longer every day.” He drained his coffee-cup voluptuously. “Never mind my business—what’s yours?”
“Mine? I haven’t come on business.”
“Then you must have a brandy.” He reached out and pulled the green bell-rope.
“No thank you. You see—” Will swung his legs hesitatingly. “Surely you don’t think she ought to carry lies——?”
“Who?”
“The Bradmarsh Carrier.”
“Jinny! She has to carry anything—at the proper tariff.”
“But is it fair to her?”
“If you mean our doing bumper business, she don’t know it’s a lie, and her telling it helps to make it true. Why, you were itching to see the show yourself, as soon as you heard other fools were flocking.” He turned a grinning face. “Come now, confess.”