"So King is your name."
"Yes, sir."
"It is a royal one and gives you something to live up to."
As the boy did not know what to answer he was silent.
"And you like dogs?" said the inquisitor more kindly.
"I like all animals," returned Walter evasively, "and I am sure I shall like your dogs because you always like anything you take care of."
"So you do! I remember when I was about your age I tamed an old brown weasel. He was a wretch of a creature with scarcely a virtue—cruel, deceitful, cold-blooded; and yet I grew to love that brute as much as if he had had the gentleness of a dove. You know how it is."
Walter nodded. For the moment the two came together on a plane of real contact and sympathy, and the smile the elder gave him bound the lad to his new employer as no spoken words could possibly have done.
But a second later Mr. Crowninshield's mood had changed and he was storming at Mary, the waitress, and demanding whether she meant to freeze them all by leaving the outside door open. Walter could see the girl flush red and as he leaped forward to close the door she flashed him a grateful, tremulous smile. Then Mr. Crowninshield turned toward his wife.
"Mollie," he replied, "this is Walter King who is going to look after your dogs. Come and speak to him."