“You see,” Fulkerson explained, “I find that the old man has got an idea of his own about that banquet, and I guess there’s some sense in it.  He wants to have a preliminary little dinner, where we can talk the thing up first-half a dozen of us; and he wants to give us the dinner at his house.  Well, that’s no harm.  I don’t believe the old man ever gave a dinner, and he’d like to show off a little; there’s a good deal of human nature in the old man, after all.  He thought of you, of course, and Colonel Woodburn, and Beaton, and me at the foot of the table; and Conrad; and I suggested Kendricks:  he’s such a nice little chap; and the old man himself brought up the idea of Lindau.  He said you told him something about him, and he asked why couldn’t we have him, too; and I jumped at it.”

“Have Lindau to dinner?” asked March.

“Certainly; why not?  Father Dryfoos has a notion of paying the old fellow a compliment for what he done for the country.  There won’t be any trouble about it.  You can sit alongside of him, and cut up his meat for him, and help him to things—­”

“Yes, but it won’t do, Fulkerson!  I don’t believe Lindau ever had on a dress-coat in his life, and I don’t believe his ‘brincibles’ would let him wear one.”

“Well, neither had Dryfoos, for the matter of that.  He’s as high-principled as old Pan-Electric himself, when it comes to a dress-coat,” said Fulkerson.  “We’re all going to go in business dress; the old man stipulated for that.

“It isn’t the dress-coat alone,” March resumed.  “Lindau and Dryfoos wouldn’t get on.  You know they’re opposite poles in everything.  You mustn’t do it.  Dryfoos will be sure to say something to outrage Lindau’s ‘brincibles,’ and there’ll be an explosion.  It’s all well enough for Dryfoos to feel grateful to Lindau, and his wish to honor him does him credit; but to have Lindau to dinner isn’t the way.  At the best, the old fellow would be very unhappy in such a house; he would have a bad conscience; and I should be sorry to have him feel that he’d been recreant to his ‘brincibles’; they’re about all he’s got, and whatever we think of them, we’re bound to respect his fidelity to them.”  March warmed toward Lindau in taking this view of him.  “I should feel ashamed if I didn’t protest against his being put in a false position.  After all, he’s my old friend, and I shouldn’t like to have him do himself injustice if he is a crank.”

“Of course,” said Fulkerson, with some trouble in his face.  “I appreciate your feeling.  But there ain’t any danger,” he added, buoyantly.  “Anyhow, you spoke too late, as the Irishman said to the chicken when he swallowed him in a fresh egg.  I’ve asked Lindau, and he’s accepted with blayzure; that’s what he says.”

March made no other comment than a shrug.

“You’ll see,” Fulkerson continued, “it ’ll go off all right.  I’ll engage to make it, and I won’t hold anybody else responsible.”