Mr. Bannister looked at William, now engaged in running the wheelbarrow up and down the room, emitting the while a curious sound, possibly to encourage an imaginary horse. The inspection did not seem to excite him or afford him any pleasure.
“Oh!” he said.
Steve was damped, but resumed gamely:
“Say, boss, this is the greatest kid on earth. I’m not stringing you, honest. He’s a wonder. On the level, did you ever see a kid that age with a pair of shoulders on him like what this kid’s got? Say, squire, what’s the matter with calling the fight off and starting fair? Miss Ruth would be tickled to death if you would. Can the rough stuff, colonel. I know you think you’ve been given a raw deal, Kirk chipping in like that and copping off Miss Ruth, but for the love of Mike, what does it matter? You seen for yourself what a dandy kid this is. Well, then, check your grouch with your hat. Do the square thing. Have out the auto and come right round to the studio and make it up. What’s wrong with that, colonel? Honest, they’d be tickled clean through.”
At this point Keggs entered, followed by a footman carrying wooden bricks.
“Keggs,” said Mr. Bannister, “telephone for the automobile at once—”
“That’s the talk, colonel,” cried Steve joyfully. “I know you were a sport.”
“——to take me down to Wall Street.”
Keggs bowed.
“Oh Keggs,” said Mr. Bannister, as he turned to leave.