“Well, what do you think of the French and Germans? They drink coffee, and they're pretty smart, active people, too.”
“French and Germans drink coffee?”
“Yes.”
Kinney stopped short in his heated career of generalization, and scratched his shaggy head. “Well,” he said, finally, “I guess they're a kind of a missing link, as old Darwin says.” He joined Bartley in his laugh cordially, and looked up at the round clock nailed to a log. “It's about time I set my tables, anyway. Well,” he asked, apparently to keep the conversation from flagging, while he went about this work, “how is the good old Free Press getting along?”
“It's going to get along without me from this out,” said Bartley. “This is my last week in Equity.”
“No!” retorted Kinney, in tremendous astonishment.
“Yes; I'm off at the end of the week. Squire Gaylord takes the paper back for the committee, and I suppose Henry Bird will run it for a while; or perhaps they'll stop it altogether. It's been a losing business for the committee.”
“Why, I thought you'd bought it of 'em.”
“Well, that's what I expected to do; but the office hasn't made any money. All that I've saved is in my colt and cutter.”
“That sorrel?”