What particularly delighted him--and here
he related the Portman incident--was the change in Breen's face
when old Portman grasped his hand so cordially.
"Made of pinchbeck, my dear Major, both of them, and yet how
genuine it looks on the surface, and what a lot of it is in
circulation. Quite as good as the real thing if you don't know the
difference," and again he laughed heartily.
"And the boy," I asked, "was he disappointing?"
"Young Breen?--not a bit of it. He's like all the young fellows
who come up here from the South--especially the country
districts--and he's from western Maryland, he says. Got queer
ideas about work and what a gentleman should do to earn his
living--same old talk. Hot-house plants most of them--never amount
to anything, really, until they are pruned and set out in the
cold."
"Got any sense?" I ventured.
"No, not much--not yet--but he's got temperament and refinement
and a ten commandments' code of morals."
"Rather rare, isn't it?" I asked.
"Yes--perhaps so."
"And I suppose you are going to take him up and do for him, like
the others.
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