"No. He's dull, and not inclined to be speculative."
"I should take him to be wildly adventurous."
"Why so?"
"He let you have five dollars."
"Oh, I see. But that's all right. He'll treat you well. Say, he may pass cigars with a gilt band around them. Put a few in your pocket for me."
"I might have a chance to sneak a whole box."
"Come, don't rub the lamp. Rub the ring and get two cigars. I'll sit up and wait for them. If Boyd asks you why I have been dodging him, tell him I'm not well."
The lawn was a spread of blue grass, beneath trees with low, hanging boughs, and through the misty light and moving shadows the house looked like a castle. The air was vibrant with the music of the "string" band, gathered from the livery stable and the barber shop; and mingled with the music as if it were a part of the sound, was the half sad scent of the crushed geranium. At the gate a black man, in a long coat buttoned to the ground, took Lyman's card of invitation. From groups of white came the laugh of youth, and from darker gatherings came the hum of talk. Lyman shook hands with nearly every one whom he met, laughing; and his good humor was an introduction to persons he had never seen before. He felt that he was a part of a joke which everyone was enjoying. The Hon. S. Boyd came forward and shook hands with him.
"I am delighted to welcome you to my grounds," said the great man, speaking as if he had invited Lyman to hunt in a forest of a thousand acres. "And your partner, will he be here?"
"No, he's not very well this evening," Lyman answered, walking slowly, arm-hooked with the great man.