“My name is Fletcher—Dick Fletcher my friends call me.”
“I am Harry Vane, and my friend is Jack Pendleton.”
“We will drink to our better acquaintance. Here, John,” addressing the bar-keeper, “three glasses of ale here.”
“If you won’t mind, Jack and I will take lemonade.”
Fletcher stared at them in amazement.
“You don’t drink ale?” he said.
“We belong to the temperance society,” said Harry, smiling.
“You won’t keep that up long at the mines,” said Fletcher, shrugging his shoulders.
Harry did not reply, but quietly resolved that he would disprove that statement.