“Why, Ed., you look ill,” exclaimed Mrs. Mason; “is there anything the matter?”
“Oh, it is nothing—at least, not of much consequence. A little business worry, that’s all.”
“Has there been any trouble?”
“Oh no—at the least, not yet.”
“Trouble about the men, is it?”
“No, not about the men,” said the unfortunate gentleman, with a somewhat unnecessary emphasis on the last word.
“Oh, Mr. Mason, I am afraid I have come at a wrong time. If so, don’t hesitate to tell me. If I can do anything to help you, I hope I may be allowed.”
“You have come just at the right time,” said the lumberman, “and you are very welcome, I assure you. If I find I need help, as perhaps I may, you will be reminded of your promise.”
To put off as long as possible the evil time of meeting his wife, Mason went with the man to see the horse put away, and he lingered an unnecessarily long time in ascertaining that everything was right in the stable. The man was astonished to find his master so particular that afternoon. A crisis may be postponed, but it can rarely be avoided altogether, and knowing he had to face the inevitable sooner or later, the unhappy man, with a sigh, betook himself to the house, where he found his wife impatiently waiting for him. She closed the door and confronted him.
“Now, Ed., what’s the matter?”