“I don’t know. They said I was to let you know, and I’ve let you know.”
But it was evident he had acted under compulsion, and he added, as one man to another—
“You go and have it out with ’em. Butter ’em up a bit and they’ll come round.”
And Andy replied—as one man to another—
“I’m hanged if I will! I’ll manage somehow if I have to make the cakes myself!”
Mr. Thorpe nodded.
“Just as you like, of course.”
But, oddly enough, his respect for Andy was increased by this unreasonable behaviour, and he stood by the door, scratching his head, and slowly evolving a means of compromise. Then he closed the door again, advanced a few steps, and remarked with the air of a conspirator, “I’ve got it!”
His manner was so queerly at variance with his appearance, that any one not concerned in the serious question must have been tickled by the incongruity; but Andy peered at him anxiously—
“Well?”