"No," returned the stranger, smiling. "And certainly not before that
interested young lady, Jim. But stop. Let me look at you."
He held out both hands, took Jim's, spread them apart for a moment with
a boyish gesture, and, looking in his face, said half mischievously,
half sadly, "Yes, it's the same old Jim Hooker,--unchanged."
"But YOU'RE changed,--reg'lar war paint, Big Injin style!" said Hooker,
looking up at him with an awkward mingling of admiration and envy.
"Heard you struck it rich with the old man, and was Mister Brant now!"
"Yes," said Clarence gently, yet with a smile that had not only a tinge
of weariness but even of sadness in it.
Unfortunately, the act, which was quite natural to Clarence's
sensitiveness, and indeed partly sprang from some concern in his old
companion's fortunes, translated itself by a very human process to
Hooker's consciousness as a piece of rank affectation. HE would have
been exalted and exultant in Clarence's place, consequently any other
exhibition was only "airs." Nevertheless, at the present moment Clarence
was to be placated.
"You didn't mind my telling that story about your savin' Susy as my own,
did ye?" he said, with a hasty glance over his shoulder. "I only did it
to fool the old man and women-folks, and make talk. You won't blow on
me? Ye ain't mad about it?"
It had crossed Clarence's memory that when they were both younger
Jim Hooker had once not only borrowed his story, but his name and
personality as well.
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