Nat swayed with amazement. "What's changed you all of a sudden?" he demanded blankly.
Releasing him, Kellogg resumed his seat, laughing. "Well, a number of things. Among others, I've talked with Graham and I've met his daughter."
"Oh-h!"
"And that reminds me," Kellogg changed the subject briskly; "I understood from you that Graham was sole owner of that patent burner."
"So he is."
"He says not. I had a proposition to make him from the Mutual people, and he referred me to you, saying that you controlled the matter."
"I've not the slightest interest in it!" Nat protested.
"I know you haven't, but Graham insisted you owned the whole thing. I pressed him for an explanation, and he finally furnished one in his rambling, inconsequent, fine old way. He admitted that there wasn't any sort of an existing contract or agreement of any sort, even oral, between you, but just the same you'd been so good to him and his girl that he'd made up his mind—some time ago, I gather—to make you a present of the burner; but naturally he forgot to tell you about an insignificant detail like that."
"Of course that's nonsense; I wouldn't and shant accept."
"Of course you won't. I did you the honour to discount that. But he wouldn't say a word about the offer—yes or no—just left it all up to you. He says you're a business man, and that he's often thought what a help you must have been to me before you left New York."