Bannister were the nucleus of an Old Home
Week celebration or two old college chums meeting after long absence.
Nervousness, on the rare occasions when he suffered from it, generally
had that effect on him.
He breezed into the library, carrying the wheelbarrow, the box of
bricks, and the dying pig, and trailing William in his wake. William's
grandfather was seated with his back to the door, dictating a letter to
one of his secretaries.
He looked up as Steve entered. He took in Steve and William in a rapid
glance and guessed the latter's identity in an instant. He had expected
something of this sort ever since he had heard of his grandson's birth.
Indeed, he had been somewhat surprised that the visit had not occurred
before.
He betrayed no surprise.
"One moment, Dingle," he said, and turned to the secretary again. A
faint sneer came and went on his face.
The delay completed Steve's discomfiture. He placed the wheel harrow on
the floor, the box of bricks on the wheelbarrow, and the dying pig on
the box of bricks, whence it was instantly removed and inflated by
William.
"'Referring to your letter of the eighth--'" said Mr. Bannister in his
cold, level voice.
He was interrupted by the incisive cry of the dying pig.
"Ask your son to be quiet, Dingle," he said impassively.
Steve was staggered.
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