Hugh John listened quietly. Bygones were long bygones between him and Nipper. The "smoutchies" smoutched no more, but were (most of them) good servants of the King or honorable citizens of Edam. Already one wore the V. C., and for his sake and in the general interests of peace Hugh John tolerated those who remained. He even liked Nipper Donnan, and had no idea of the gusts of angry fury that were tearing his poor ignorant heart to pieces.
"Advise you—well, I don't know much about it," said Hugh John. "If it is a matter of your books, you had better show them to your father. No? You don't want to do that. Very well, then, tell me what Elizabeth Fortinbras said—exactly, I mean."
"Said I was to come to you—tell you about the week's deficit, and ask your advice."
"Then you must tell me all about it!" said Hugh John, calmly impartial. Nipper gave some figures of entrances and exits, marts and sales, gross, retail, and monthly book-debts.
"Hum!" said Hugh John, after a minute's thought, "if I were you I should get rid of the whole indoor crowd, and work the business myself for a month or two, with a couple of 'prentices and the toe of my boot!"
Hugh John's eyes were distant, grave, thoughtful—Nipper's little, black, and virulent with suppressed anger. But the Thinker had grown man of action also, and Nipper felt no security that he could win a victory against Hugh John even with his fists. As to the mind, he felt instinctively the grip of his master. That was not to be gainsaid.
"Yes," he said, jerking out his words like leaden pellets on a table, "I suppose that is the plan. I will fire the whole lot this very night!" Hugh John nodded quietly.
"It will be best!" he said, and the advice once given, his mind would have passed to another question had not Nipper recalled him suspiciously.
"Has my father not been speaking to you?" he growled ungraciously.
"Your father? No, not that I remember!" said Hugh John, staring in wonder.