"Come," said McElwin, "we don't want any trouble."
"But if we have it," Lyman replied, "let it come on before it is time to go to press. Warren wants news."
McElwin bit his brown lip, and Sawyer fumed.
"Don't put it off too long," said Warren. "I've hired a negro to turn the press."
"This is infamous!" the banker shouted, stamping the floor. "It is beyond belief." Then he strove to calm himself. "Mr. Lyman, I ask you, as a man, to sign this petition."
"The interview has wrought upon my nerves, Mr. McElwin, and if I should sign it now the Court might look upon my signature as obtained under coercion."
"Ridiculous, sir. I never saw a man more quiet."
"That is the mistake of your agitated eye. My nerves are in a tangle."
"Let me fix it," said Sawyer, swelling toward Lyman.
Lyman smiled at him: "You are pretty heavy in the shoulders, Mr. Sawyer, but you slope down too fast. I don't believe your legs are very good. You might say that I don't slope enough, or not at all, but I'm wire, Yale-drawn. You are meaty, vealy, the boys would say, but if you think that you'd feel healthier and more contented toward the world after a closer association with me—"