“I fear,” he resumed, “that I have interrupted some important business?” and he looked around with an air of enquiry.
Mr. Caske airily waved his long pipe.
“Oh no, sir,” he said, lightly, “nothing of consequence”—here he glanced at his friends—“we were, ah—talking about our friend, ah—‘the Golden Shoemaker.’”
Mr. Caske was secretly anxious to elicit the minister’s opinion of “Cobbler” Horn.
“Ah,” exclaimed Mr. Durnford, with an intonation in which sarcasm might not have been difficult to detect, “and what about ‘the Golden Shoemaker’?”
Mr. Caske looked at Mr. Botterill and Mr. Kershaw; and Mr. Kershaw and Mr. Botterill looked first at each other, and then at Mr. Caske.
“Well,” replied Mr. Caske, at length, “he’s being more talked about than ever.”
“Well, now,” asked the minister, “as to what in particular?”
“Chiefly as to the way he’s squandering his money.”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware Mr. Horn had become a spendthrift! You must have been misinformed, Mr. Caske,” and Mr. Durnford looked the brewer intently in the face.