“Did you want to speak to me?” the cherub demanded.
“I did, Tom, I did. How—how are you getting on?”
“Spit it out.”
Hullah murmured smoothly: “Ah, the same blunt-spoken, honest Tom that was at Peterson’s! You remember Peterson’s and the old days, Tom?”
“I’d let the old days drop if I was you. I thought you had done.”
“So did I, Tom, so did I; but every breast has its troubles. You’ve heard the expression, Tom, that there is no cupboard without its skeleton?”
“Keep your cupboards and skeletons to yourself.... Does the new bathroom answer all right?”
“Nicely, Tom, I thank you.... Did you know Peterson was back in Maychester?”
“Ho, is he? I expect he wants to talk over the old days with his friend Hullah, same as you with me. Well, you was a precious pair o’ rascals—though for myself, mark you, I like to see honour among such.”
“Hush, Tom!... He’s back, and seeking you. He’d better be careful; it’s twenty years, is that. But what I wanted to say, Tom, is that it would save a lot of trouble—a lot of trouble—if you weren’t to see him.”