Sam whistled. "Pretty tough advice, unless the fellow happened to have plenty of cash," he hazarded, with a quizzical look at the now flushed and agitated Mr. Hickey.
"Wouldn't they be good enough at that price?" inquired the engineer excitedly. "Ought I--ought my friend to have paid more?"
"I should say that was a fair price," said Sam mildly. "I don't believe my wife has any feathers of that description on her hats."
Mr. Hickey looked troubled. "Do you think I--er--told my friend the correct thing to do?" he inquired humbly. "Of course I don't know much about--feathers, or anything about women, for that matter."
"That's where you're making a big mistake, Hickey, if you'll allow me to say as much. You ought to marry some nice girl, man, and make her happy. You'd find yourself happier than you have any idea of in the process."
Mr. Hickey shook his head dubiously. "That may be so," he admitted. "I don't doubt it, to tell you the truth; but I----. The fact is, Brewster, I'm too far along in life to think of changing my way of living. I--I'd be afraid to try it, for fear----"
"Oh, nonsense, man! you're just in your prime. Be sure you get the right woman, though; a real home-maker, Hickey; the kind who'll meet you at night with a smile, and have a first-class dinner ready for you three hundred and sixty-five days in the year."
Mr. Hickey stared inscrutably at a passing truck. "Hum--ah!" he ejaculated. "I--er--dare say you are right, Brewster. Quite so, in fact. I--I'll think it over and let you know--that is, I----"
Sam Brewster turned aside to conceal a passing smile. "The more you think it over the better," he said convincingly; "only don't take so much time for thinking that the other man'll cut you out."
"Then there is another man!" exclaimed Mr. Hickey, with some agitation. "I knew it; I felt sure of it. But how could it be otherwise?"
Sam Brewster stared in amazement at the effect produced by his careless speech. "There's always another man, George," he said seriously--though he felt morally certain there wasn't, if Hickey was referring to Miss Tripp. "But you want to get busy, and not waste time philandering."
The most unthinking observer could scarcely have accused Mr. Hickey of "philandering" up to this point; inasmuch as he had not laid eyes on the object of his thoughts--he would have demurred at a stronger word--for upwards of a month. That same afternoon, however, he left his office at the unwarranted hour of two o'clock, bearing a milliner's box in his hand with unblushing gravity.
