“What do you mean?”
“I have just remembered something. I came across a––stranger the other day. He was wrapped in furs, and I could only see his eyes. But those eyes were distinctly familiar––‘cow’-eyes, I think you said. I was struck with their appearance at the time, but couldn’t just realize where I had seen eyes like ’em before.” Then he went on reflectively: “But no, it couldn’t have been he. Ah–––” He broke off and glanced in the direction of the window as the jangle of sleigh-bells sounded outside. “Here’s our cutter. Come on.”
Robb rose from his seat and brushed the crumbs from his trousers. There came the sound of voices from the other side of the door.
“Some of the boys,” said Robb, with a meaning smile. “It’s early for ’em.”
“I believe this is your doing,” said Grey sulkily.
Robb nodded in the direction of the window. “You’ve got a team. This is no ‘one-horsed’ affair.”
The door opened suddenly and two men entered.
“Oh, here he is,” said one, Charlie Trellis, the 106 postmaster, with a laugh. “Congratulate you, Grey, my friend. Double harness, eh? Tame you down, my boy. Good thing, marriage––for taming a man.”
“You’re not looking your best,” said the other, Jack Broad, the telegraph operator. “Why, man, you look as though you were going to your own funeral. Buck up! Come and have a ‘Collins’; brace you up for the ordeal.”
“Go to the devil, both of you,” said Grey ungraciously. “I don’t swill eye-openers all day like you, Jack Broad. Got something else to do.”