Flash Hogarty looked at him, looked at that outstretched hand––looked back at his steady eyes and the smile that parted his lips. And Hogarty did a thing that made even Bobby Ogden gasp. He bowed gracefully and reached out and silently shook hands. When he spoke, instead of the perfectly enunciated, picturesquely profane rebuke which the silk-shirted boy was waiting to hear, his voice was even smoother and softer, and choicer of intonation than usual.
“Quite so,” he stated. “Quite free from error or embarrassing mistake, sir. I am Mr. Jesse Hogarty. You, however, if I may be permitted that assertion, have me rather at a disadvantage, sir.”
He bowed again, once more elaborately graceful. Bobby Ogden hugged his knees beneath the table, for he knew from the very suavity of that reply all that was brewing. Hogarty’s silken voice went on.
“Regrettable, sir, and most awkward. You, no doubt, have no objection, however, to making the introduction complete?”
The smile still hovered upon Denny’s lips. Ogden noted, though, that it had changed. And he realized, too, that it had not been a particularly mirthful smile, even in the first place. Again Young Denny’s eyes met those of the other boy for one moment.
“I’m Denny Bolton,” he replied just as deliberately. “Denny Bolton, from Boltonwood––or––or I reckon you’ve never heard of that place. I’m down from the hill country, back in the north,” he supplemented.
Hogarty turned away––turned back to the green-topped table and played the double-blank with delicate precision.
“Of course,” he agreed softly. “Quite right––quite right! And––er––may I inquire if it was something of importance––something directly concerning me––which has resulted in this neighborly call?”
He did not so much as lift his eyes from the dominoes beneath his fingers. If he had he would have seen, as Ogden saw, that Denny’s smile faded away––disappeared entirely. But when he replied the boy’s voice was unchanged.