"Certainly—an' I want you an' Mr. Hunter to talk that little scheme over with the men. An' you must come back an' tell me what they think—come an' have supper with me again, an' I'll try an' have somethin' extra, so's we can eat an' drink an' be merry."
Nobody had suggested departure; but already the three men were moving out into the hall. "How's all the men keepin', Mr. Hunter?—the men in our shops, I mean," the genial host enquired.
"All pretty good, sir—all except Jim Shiel, an' he's pretty sick. He's been drawin' benefits for a month now."
"Oh, that's too bad; but I'm glad you told me. I'll look around an' see him soon—your folks all well, Mr. Glady?"
"Yes, thank you. But don't call me Mr. Glady," said the friendly delegate; "I'd feel better if you'd just call me plain Tom."
"An' my name's Henry," chimed Mr. Hunter, "just plain Henry."
"Them's two elegant names," agreed Mr. Borland, "an' I think myself they're best among friends. Speakin' about first names reminds me of an old soldier my grandfather used to know in Massachusetts. He fought for Washington, an' he had great yarns to tell. One was that one mornin' he assassinated thirty-seven British fellows before breakfast; an' Washington, he came out an' smiled round on the corpses. Of course, he slung old Hollister a word o' praise. 'I done it for you, General,' says old Hollister. 'Don't,' says Washington, 'don't call me General—call me George,'" and David led the chorus with great zest.
"Well, we'll be biddin' you good-evenin'," said Mr. Glady, extending his hand.
"Jest wait a minute; I sent word to Thomas to hitch up the chestnuts—he'll drive you down. Here he is now," as the luxurious carriage rolled to the door. Thomas controlled himself with difficulty as he watched Mr. Borland handing his petrified guests into the handsome equipage. Panic takes different forms; Mr. Glady wrapped the lap-robe carefully about his neck, while Mr. Hunter shook hands solemnly with the coachman.
"I don't use this rig a terrible lot myself," he heard David saying; "it's a better fit for the missus. If you feel like drivin' round a bit to get the air, Thomas'll take good care o' you. Good-night, Henry; good-night, Tom," he sung out as the horses' hoofs rattled down the avenue.