"Dr. L. André Surtaine, at your service. Now, will you shake?"
Still surly, Mr. McQuiggan hung back. "What about that roast?" he demanded.
"Wasn't sure of you. Twenty years is a long time. But I knew if it was you you'd want to fight, and I knew if you didn't want to fight it wasn't you. I'll buy you one in honor of the best little city west of the Mississip, and the best bunch of sports that ever came out of it, the McQuiggans of St. Jo, Missouri. Does that go?"
"It goes," replied the representative of the family concisely.
Across the café table Dr. Surtaine contemplated his old acquaintance with friendly interest.
"The same old scrappy Elpy," he observed. "What's happened to you, since you used to itinerate with the Iroquois Extract of Life?"
"Plenty."
"You're looking pretty prosperous."
"Have to, in my line."
"What is it?"