“I am afraid that your intended kindness will make my welcome scantier than ever.”
“Not a bit of it. I’m the master of this house, as they found out this afternoon, and I say who’ll come into it, and who’ll not. I shan’t need to interfere in your case, for you’ll get a warm welcome from both.”
“You didn’t tell them?” I exclaimed, starting forward in my seat.
“Not a word, though the boss nearly went crazy with curiosity. But I did say that you were making a splendid up-hill fight, and if they knew the facts of the case they’d be proud to black your boots. My word goes in this family about as well as it does on the Street, and you’ll get all the welcome you can stand from now on.”
“You make me very proud and happy.”
“You have reason to be proud,” he asserted. “I’m not a man who slobbers much, but I’m going to tell you what I think of you. When you first came here, I sized you up as rather a softy, your manner was so quiet and gentle. I got over that delusion precious quick, and I want to say that for pluck and grit you’re a trump, and there’s my hand on it.”
He went to the table, poured out a couple of glasses of whiskey and seltzer, and brought them to the fire. “You need something for that graveyard cough of yours,” he said, handing one to me. “Well,” he went on, “I didn’t bring you out such a night as this to tell you of my scrap; but after the row, the boss was so ashamed of herself that she trumped up an A 1 excuse (as she thought) for having treated you as she had, and that led to a talk, and that’s why I sent round for you. What do you suppose she has got into her head?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“I needn’t tell you,” he remarked, “that women always know an awful lot that isn’t so. But just because they do, they every now and then discover a truth that can’t be come at in any other way. Now the boss thinks she’s done this, and I’m not sure that she hasn’t. She says you are in love.”
“I never knew a man who wasn’t,” I replied, trying to smile. “If it isn’t with a woman, then it’s always with himself.”