“I come from no mill,” retorted Grogan, piqued by the girl’s tone, “and if you’ll excuse me I don’t want to.”
“This is Mr. Michael Grogan of Chicago,” put in Harvey placatingly. “I’ve been showing him the town.”
“And,” added Grogan quickly, “I haven’t seen much.”
“That’s not at all strange,” said Elsie, “because there’s nothing to see.”
“And in Chicago, where I come from,” said Grogan sagely, “there’s altogether too much.”
Grogan saw by his two companions’ faces that he was an intruder.
“Young man,” he said, “I don’t think I’ll wait for you. I’ve some letters to write at the hotel. I think I’ll be strolling along.”
“Why,” said Harvey, hospitable in the face of intrusion, “you’re welcome to ride. Won’t you wait?”
“No, thanks,” said Grogan, “that grocery wagon of yours wasn’t built to accommodate a man of my size.”
Harvey and the girl watched Grogan disappear in the dusk. Then the young man turned to the girl.