"Thank you." Duncan ceremoniously deposited both in the till, going behind the soda fountain to do so, and then waited, expectant. Blinky was grunting busily in the key of one about to make an important communication.
"I'm glad you're a-comin' in here with Sam," he said at length, with an acid grimace that was meant to be a smile.
"Oh, it may be only temporary." Nat endeavoured to assume a seraphic expression, and partially succeeded. "I'm devoting much of my time to my studies," he pursued primly; "but nevertheless feel I should be earning something, too."
"That's right; that's the kind of spirit I like to see in a young man.... You always go to church, don't you?"
"No, sir—Sundays only."
"That's what I mean. D'you drink?"
"Oh, no, sir," Duncan parroted glibly: "don't smoke, drink, swear, and on Sundays I go to church."
The bland smile with which he faced Lockwood's keen scrutiny disarmed suspicion.
"I'm glad to hear that," Blinky told him. "I'm at the head of the temp'rance movement here, and I hope you'll join us, and set an example to our fast young men."
"I feel sure I could do that," said Duncan meekly.