in openly "joshing the old man." Bart Nelson did not indulge in this pastime, as he had conceived a violent, if secret, regard for Viola.
One evening after dinner the "joshing" reached a climax against which even the colonel's egotistical infatuation was not proof. Viola was up-stairs, according to her custom; Mrs. Seymour was absent on her never-ending household duties; and Bart Nelson was out. There was no one to restrain the old man's foolish flights, and inspired by the ironically flattering queries of his listeners, his reminiscences became more vaingloriously brilliant than they had ever been before.
His completion of an elaborate account of his patronage of Adolphus Maroney called forth from Mr. Betts the remark:
"I don't see, colonel, how he can get on at all without you. Once you got from under him, it 's a miracle he did n't entirely collapse."
"No, not quite that," the colonel modestly deprecated. "Maroney was no fool—no fool; only speculative and lacking in foresight. When I got him on his feet he was able to go his way alone."
"Well, that was smart of him, was n't it?" commented Charley Ryan, with a sagacious wag of his head.
There was something in the tone of his remark that disturbed the colonel's complacency.
