So genuine was the regret in the clockmaker's tone that Christopher hastened to add:
"Oh, it's all right, Mr. McPhearson. Please don't think of it again. I oughtn't to have mentioned it. It doesn't really matter, you know."
Still his companion was not satisfied.
"We might go back," suggested he.
"No, no! It will make you late at the store. Maybe you'll be going up there again some other day and can take me along."
"I'm afraid not," replied McPhearson, ruefully. "At least I hope not. If Seventeen behaves herself as I expect she will, I shall not be needed. Well! Well! I am sorry. It wasn't very thoughtful of me."
They walked on and hailing a bus climbed aboard it.
The vehicle was crowded and they made their way in with difficulty, jostling aside its closely packed occupants as they entered.
"Lots of these people will be leaving at the next stop," McPhearson remarked. "They always do."
The prediction was true. At the next corner the passengers poured out, leaving the seats only thinly filled.