Phil stopped and looked across at him.
When Brenchfield was most pleasant, he knew that was the time for him to be most on his guard.
“It is more honest than some work I could name.”
“Poof!––any fool can be a smith. Why don’t you get into something worth while?”
“This suits me!”
“You’re devilish snappy, Phil. What the hell’s the matter with you, anyway? Can’t you be civil to Royce Pederstone’s customers? Do you want to turn away business?”
“Stick to business and it will be all right. There is nothing outside of that that I want to talk to you about.”
Brenchfield threw out his bulky chest and smiled, as he walked toward the back door. Suddenly he wheeled 92 round, put his fingers into his vest pocket and pulled out a piece of blue paper.
“Phil,––aren’t you going to let bygones be bygones? I’ll make it well worth your while. There’s going to be big things doing here and I can put you wise.”
To show how little he thought of the suggestion, Phil commenced hammering on his anvil and so drowned Brenchfield’s voice.