“I know—poor chap!” he observed. “But it wasn’t his fault. It was the little brute of a pony. Every one knows that. It was rotten bad luck, but who would be down on a fellow for bad luck?”
“Exactly. But it’s changed Mr. Leith’s life. His wife has left him. He’s given up his business, and is, consequently, less well off than he was. But this isn’t all.”
Jimmy tenderly struck a match, lighted a cigarette, and, with half-closed eyes, blew forth in a professional manner a delicate cloud of smoke. He was feeling good all over.
“First-rate cigarettes!” he remarked. “The very best! Yes, mater?”
“He’s rather badly broken up.”
“No wonder!” said Jimmy, with discrimination.
“You’ll find him a good deal changed. Sometimes he’s moody and even bad-tempered, poor fellow, and he’s fearfully sensitive. I’m trying my best to buck him up.”
“Good for you, mater! He’s our friend. We’re bound to stand by him.”
“And that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. When he’s a little difficult, doesn’t take things quite as one means them—you know?”
“Rather! Do I?”