“I do not think that I wish any more,” protested Fernet.
“Nonsense! You are still shivering like an old woman with the palsy. Hot coffee will do you good.”
“No,” said Fernet, desperately, “I never drink more than one cup at a sitting. It keeps me awake, and next morning my hand shakes and I am fit for nothing. I need a steady hand in my business.”
“And what may that be, pray?”
“At present I am a draftsman. Some day, if I live long enough, I hope to be an architect.”
“If you live long enough? You forget that you have laughed at me, my friend.”
Fernet tried to appear indifferent. “What a droll fellow you are!” he cried, with sudden gaiety, rubbing his hands together. And without thinking, he reached for his coffee-cup and downed the contents in almost one gulp. He laid the cup aside quickly. He could feel the sweat starting out upon his forehead.
“There, you see,” said Minetti, “the coffee has done you good already. You are perspiring, and that is a good sign. A hot drink at the right moment works wonders.”
The next morning Pollitto stopped Fernet as he swung out the front gate to his work.