e simple meal he begged to be excused. He begged
this in a lofty, detached, somewhat weary manner, as a man of the
world, excessively bored at the dull chatter but still the fastidious
gentleman, might have begged it, breaking into one of the many
repetitions by his hostess of just what she had said to Mrs. Judge
Ellis. He was again Clifford Armytage, enacting a polished society man
among yokels. He was so impressive, after rising, in his bow to Mrs.
Gashwiler that Amos regarded him with a kindling suspicion.

"Say!" he called, as Merton in the hallway plucked his rakish plush hat
from the mirrored rack. "You remember, now, no more o' that skylarkin'
with them dummies! Them things cost money."

Merton paused. He wished to laugh sarcastically, a laugh of withering
scorn. He wished to reply in polished tones, "Skylarkin'! You poor, dull
clod, what do you know of my ambitions, my ideals? You, with your petty
life devoted to gaining a few paltry dollars!" But he did not say
this, or even register the emotion that would justly accompany such a
subtitle. He merely rejoined, "All right, sir, I'm not going to touch
them," and went quickly out. "Darned old grouch!" he muttered as he went
down the concrete walk to the Gashwiler front gate.

Here he turned to regard the two-story brick house and the square
of lawn with a concrete deer on one side of the walk, balanced by a
concrete deer on the other. Before the gate was the cast-iron effigy
of a small Negro in fantastic uniform, holding an iron ring aloft. The
Gashwiler carriage horse had been tethered to this in the days before
the Gashwiler touring car had been acquired.

"Dwelling of a country storekeeper!" muttered Merton. "That's all you
are!"

This was intended to be scornful. Merton meant that on the screen it
would be recognized as this and nothing more. It could not be taken
for the mansion of a rich banker, or the country home of a Wall Street
magnate. He felt that he had been keen in his dispraise, especially as
old Gashwiler would never get the sting of it. Clod!

Three blocks brought him to the heart of the town, still throbbing
faintly. He stood, irresolute, before the Giddings House. Chairs in
front of this hostelry were now vacant of loafers, and a clatter of
dishes came through the open windows of the dining room, where
supper was on. Farther down the street Selby Brothers, Cigars and
Confectionery, would be open; lights shone from the windows of the
Fashio