“Hush,” said Breen—­“he’ll hear you.”

“All right, but hurry up.  I must say he doesn’t look near so bad when you get close to him.”

“Mr. Grayson, I want you to know my friend Garry Minott.”

Peter rose to his feet.  “I do know him,” he said, holding out his hand cordially.  “I’ve been knowing him all the evening.  He’s made most of the fun at his end of the table.  You seem to have flaunted your Corn Exchange banner on the smallest provocation, Mr. Minott,” and Peter’s fingers gripped those of the young man.

“That’s because I’ve been in charge of the inside work.  Great dinner, isn’t it, Mr. Grayson.  But it’s Britton who has made the dinner.  He’s more fun than a Harlem goat with a hoopskirt.  See him—­that’s Brit with a red head and blue neck-tie.  He’s been all winter in Wisconsin looking after some iron work and has come back jam full of stories.”  The dignity of Peter’s personality had evidently not impressed the young man, judging from the careless tone with which he addressed him.  “And how are you getting on, Jack—­glad you came, arn’t you?” As he spoke he laid his hand affectionately on the boy’s shoulder.  “Didn’t I tell you it would be a corker?  Out of sight, isn’t it?  Everything is out of sight around our office.”  This last remark was directed to Peter in the same casual way.

“I should say that every stopper was certainly out,” answered Peter in graver tones.  He detested slang and would never understand it.  Then again the bearing and air of Jack’s friend jarred on him.  “You know, of course, the old couplet—­’When the wine flows the—­’”

“No, I don’t know it,” interrupted Minott with an impatient glance.  “I’m not much on poetry—­but you can bet your bottom dollar it’s flowing all right.”  Then seeing the shade of disappointment on Breen’s face at the flippant way in which he had returned Peter’s courtesies, but without understanding the cause, he added, tightening his arm around his friend’s neck, “Brace up, Jack, old man, and let yourself go.  That’s what I’m always telling Jack, Mr. Grayson.  He’s got to cut loose from a lot of old-fashioned notions that he brought from home if he wants to get anywhere around here.  I had to.”

“What do you want him to give up, Mr. Minott?” Peter had put on his glasses now, and was inspecting Garry at closer range.

“Oh, I don’t know—­just get into the swing of things and let her go.”

“That is no trouble for you to do,” rejoined Jack, looking into his friend’s face.  “You’re doing something that’s worth while.”

“Well, aren’t you doing something that’s worth while?  Why you’ll be a millionaire if you keep on.  First thing you know the lightning will strike you just as it did your uncle.”

Morris leaned forward at the moment and called Minott by name.  Instantly the young man’s manner changed to one of respectful attention as he stepped to his Chief’s side.