The driver sat down, selecting a straight-backed chair, and holding himself so upright that he made Baron think of a huge, benevolent heathen god. He had dropped his cap to the floor beside him, and his hands were clasped about his capacious stomach. There was now a restful placidity as well as extraordinary power in his presence.
“And it isn’t just your strength that I envy,” said Baron, catching the luminous blue eyes of the driver for an instant, “it’s the generous way you’ve got of treating a fellow as if he were a brother!”
This, too, created great embarrassment. The driver’s face flamed and he struggled to get away from anything resembling praise. “Yes, sir!” he exclaimed, as if he were merely continuing, “that bay horse would stand in his tracks until I came back, even if the owner of the brewery tried to drive him away.”
Baron laughed. “Well, I won’t say anything more to your credit, if you don’t want to hear it,” he said. But after a moment’s silence he went on, more seriously than he had yet spoken, “but do tell me, for my own good, how you manage to feel so well disposed toward people—toward everybody!”
“Who, me? Oh, I just drink a bucket of beer every time I get thirsty, and every time I begin to feel mean I go out and dance with the girls pretty near all night. The bigger they are the easier I swing ’em.” He leaned back and laughed until things in the room shook. A book fell off the table.
Mrs. Baron came in with the doctor then, and it remained for her to make the mistake which Baron had avoided.
“You must let me pay you for your trouble,” she said. “I don’t know what would have happened but for you.”
But the extraordinary creature grasped his cap in both hands and reddened again. “Who, me?” he said. “Oh, no, mother. I make mine flirting with beer-barrels.” He made his exit uneasily. They heard him whistling on the stairs. In the distance the front door closed with a bang.
“What an extraordinary creature!” exclaimed Mrs. Baron.
“Yes,” replied Baron, “I’m afraid he is—extraordinary.”