"Mention your opinion in your prayers, Mr. Hartwell, not to me. They're as God grew them. I took them in with one sweep of my fist."
Miss Hartwell's eyes danced from Firmstone to Bennie.
"Your cook has got me this time, Firmstone." Hartwell grinned his appreciation of Bennie's retort.
They seated themselves, and Bennie began serving the soup. Hartwell was the last. Bennie handed his plate across the table. They were a little cramped for room, and Bennie was saving steps.
"It's a pity you don't have a little more room here, Bennie, so you could shine as a waiter."
"Good grub takes the shortest cut to a hungry man with no remarks on style. There's only one trail when they meet."
Hartwell's manner showed a slight resentment that he was trying to conceal. "This soup is excellent. It's rather highly seasoned"--he looked slyly at Bennie--"but then there's no rose without its thorns."
"True for you. But there's a hell of a lot of thorns with the roses, I take note. Beg pardon, Miss!"
Miss Hartwell laughed. "You have had excellent success in growing them together, Bennie."
"Thank you, Miss!" Bennie was flushed with pleasure. "I've heard tell that there were roses without thorns, but you're the first of the kind I've seen."
Bennie had ideas of duty, even to undeserving objects. Consequently, Hartwell's needs were as carefully attended to as his sister's or Firmstone's, but in spite of all duty there is a graciousness of manner that is only to be had by a payment in kind. Bennie paraded his duty as ostentatiously as his pleasure, and with the same lack of words. Hartwell noted, and kept silence.
Hartwell looked across to the table which Bennie was preparing for the mill crew.
"Do you supply the men as liberally as you do your own table, Firmstone?"
"Don't think I want to restrict you, Firmstone. I want you to have the best you can get, but it strikes me as a little extravagant for the men."
"The men pay for their extravagance, sir."
"A dollar a day only, with no risks," Hartwell tendered, rather stiffly.
"I'll trade my wages for your profits," retorted Bennie, "and give you a commission, and I'll bind myself to feed them no more hash than I do now!"
The company rose from the table. For the benefit of Miss Hartwell and Firmstone, Bennie moved across the room with the dignity of a drum-major, and, opening the door, bowed his guests from his presence.