"What took you there?" asked Gilmore angrily. "Don't you get enough to drink at my place?"
"Lots to drink, boss, but it's mostly too rich for my blood. I ain't used to bein' so pampered."
"Come along with me!" said Gilmore briefly.
"Where to, boss?" asked Montgomery, in feeble protest.
"You'll know presently."
"I thought I'd like to go home, maybe—" said Joe irresolutely.
"Never mind what you thought you'd like, you come with me!" insisted Gilmore.
Although the handy-man's first impulse had been that of revolt, he now followed the gambler meekly back across the Square. They entered the building at the corner of Main Street and mounted to Mr. Gilmore's rooms. The latter silently unlocked the door and motioned Montgomery to precede him into the apartment, then he followed, pausing midway of the room to turn up the gas which was burning low. Next he divested himself of his hat and coat, and going to a buffet which stood between the two heavily curtained windows that overlooked the Square, found a decanter and glasses. These he brought to the center-table, where he leisurely poured his unwilling guest a drink.
"Here, you old sot, soak this up!" he said genially.
"Boss, I want to go home to my old woman!" began the handy-man, after he had emptied his glass.