“Well met, indeed, David!” cried Mr. Nesbit, even before he had uttered a word of apology, “but you’ve well-nigh knocked the breath out of me.”
“And me also,” responded the smaller man. “You charged around the corner like a squadron of horse. Why such a hurry, sir?”
“A short explanation,” was the answer, “’tis past my meal hour, and I had waited for you till I could stand it no longer. Years ago, methinks, I must have swallowed a wolf, and at feeding hours he’s wont to grow rapacious and must be satisfied. Come, here we are at ‘The Old Clock.’ In with us out of the rain and we’ll satisfy the ravenous one.”
As he was speaking Mr. Nesbit almost pushed his friend ahead of him through a doorway and entered the grill-room of the tavern. A mingled odor of roast beef, ale, and tobacco smoke saluted their nostrils, and the proprietor, his wide waistcoat covered by a gleaming new apron, greeted them cheerfully.
“A wet day, gentlemen,” he observed, “but good weather for the farmers.”
“And for ducks and geese and all such,” interjected Mr. Nesbit, “but I would have you observe, Mr. Turner, that I am a dry-goods merchant and wish the bad weather would confine itself to the country.”
As he spoke he took off his heavy cloak with one hand, and relieved his friend of one almost as large, from which the water was dripping on to the sanded floor. Giving instructions to the landlord that they should both be hung by the fire where they might dry, he turned and glanced about the room, nodding to two or three men who sat at a table in the corner.
“No one but our friends here to-day,” he remarked; “we won’t join them, however. Let us sit apart, for there is much I would discuss with thee.”
“And there is much I have to say also,” returned the other, “that is not for the general ear. Is the post in?”
“Late on account of the roads, I take it,” was the response, “but there will be important news from Boston and New York, I warrant you. But now to feed the wolf! A most inconvenient beast at times, but most easily placated. Ah! there’s a cut of beef for you, and now some of your best mulled ale, Mr. Turner, and thanks to you.”