"You are prompt, my boy," remarked Mr. Pollin.
Hemming frowned. What did the old ass mean by saying he was prompt, he wondered.
"I got to town to-day," he replied, coldly.
Pollin pursed his lips and wrinkled his brow. "Let me see,—ten, eleven, twelve,—why, that is very quick work. I mailed the note only twelve days ago," he said.
"What note? and what are you talking about?" asked his bewildered hearer.
"The note to you."
"I did not get any note."
"Then what the devil brought you here?"
"That is my own business, sir," retorted Hemming, angrily.
"Easy, easy, Herbert," cried the old man.