“The letter of the twenty must have been a great surprise to Mr. Crewe. He says he was astonished. Did the whole delegation go up to Leith, or only a committee?”
Mr. Tooting's grin had by this time spread all over his face—a flood beyond his control.
“Well, there's no use puffin' it on with you, Aust. That was done pretty slick, that twenty-prominent-citizen business, if I do say it myself. But you don't know that feller Crewe—he's a full-size cyclone when he gets started, and nothin' but a range of mountains could stop him.”
“It must be fairly exciting to—ride him, Ham.”
“Say, but it just is. Kind of breathless, though. He ain't very well known around the State, and he was bound to run—and I just couldn't let him come out without any clothes on.”
“I quite appreciate your delicacy, Ham.”
Mr. Tooting's face took on once more a sheepish look, which changed almost immediately to one of disquietude.
“Say, I'll come back again some day and kid with you. I've got to go, Aust—that's straight. This is my busy day.”
“Wouldn't you gain some time if you left by the window?” Austen asked.
At this suggestion Mr. Tooting's expressive countenance showed genuine alarm.