Mallinsbee agreed.
"Sure. Sit around and wait," he said, with that baffling smile of his.
Gordon shrugged, and bent over some figures he had been working on. Presently he looked up.
"How's Miss Hazel this morning?" he inquired casually. He had wanted to speak of her before, but the memory of her father's anger yesterday had restrained him. Now he felt he was safe.
"Just sore over things," said the old man, with a sobering of the eyes. "I talked to her some last night. She guesses she owes you a heap, but it ain't nothing to what I owe you."
Gordon flushed. Then he laughed and shook his head.
"No man or woman owes me a thing who gives me the chance of a scrap," he said.
The old man smiled.
"No," he agreed. "With a name like 'Van Henslaer'—you ain't Irish?"
"Descendant of the old early Dutch."