The chauffeur takes down the bars, Mr. Jenney pricks up his ears, and presently—to his amazement—perceives a Leviathan approaching him, careening over the ruts of his wood road. Not being an emotional person, he continues to pick apples until he is summarily hailed. Then he goes leisurely towards the Leviathan.
"Are you Mr. Jenney?"
"Callate to be," says Mr. Jenney, pleasantly.
"I'm Humphrey Crewe."
"How be you?" says Mr. Jenney, his eyes wandering over the Leviathan.
"How are the apples this year?" asks Mr. Crewe, graciously.
"Fair to middlin'," says Mr. Jenney.
"Have you ever tasted my Pippins?" says Mr. Crewe. "A little science in cultivation helps along. I'm going to send you a United States government pamphlet on the fruit we can raise here."
Mr. Jenney makes an awkward pause by keeping silent on the subject of the pamphlet until he shall see it.
"Do you take much interest in politics?"