Baron was able to grin weakly at the driver’s simple generalship--and at the fact that his mother obeyed with nervous promptitude. “That way,” said he, pointing, and then he essayed a little joke. “I think you forgot to carry me around the block a time or two before you started up here, didn’t you?” he asked the driver. “Oh, it’s nothing,” came back the response. “If I had a twelve-year-old boy who didn’t weigh more than you do, I’d drown him.” With this the attic room was entered, and Baron was placed carefully on a chair. Then his shoes and other garments were removed with caution, and before he quite realized what had happened, he was in bed. “I wish I had your strength,” he said, feeling that such service as he had received ought to be acknowledged somehow. “What? Oh, you’d better leave that to me. I need it and you don’t. I guess that’s about the only thing I’ve got.” “No, it isn’t. You’ve got the right kind of a heart, too.” This created instant embarrassment. By way of escape from praise, the big fellow whispered loudly: “Say the word and I’ll jump out and get a bucket of beer before the mother gets back.” “Beer!” exclaimed Baron. He had always associated beer with festive occasions, and he was quite sure the present moment was not a festive occasion. “I don’t believe I care for any beer--just now.” He believed he had achieved a commendably diplomatic stroke by adding the two last words. He was prompted to add: “But if you’re sure your horses won’t get restless, I’d be glad to have you stay until mother comes.” The driver sat down, selecting a straight-backed chair, and holding himself so upright that he made Baron think of a huge, benevolent heathen god. He had dropped his cap to the floor beside him, and his hands were clasped about his capacious stomach. There was now a restful placidity as well as extraordinary power in his presence. “And it isn’t just your strength that I envy,” said Baron, catching the luminous blue eyes of the driver for an instant, “it’s the generous way you’ve got of treating a fellow as if he were a brother!” This, too, created great embarrassment. The driver’s face flamed and he struggled to get away from anything resembling praise. “Yes, sir!” he exclaimed, as if he were merely continuing, “that bay horse would stand in his tracks until I came back, even if the owner of the brewery tried to drive him away.” Baron laughed. “Well, I won’t say anything more to your credit, if you don’t want to hear it,” he said. But after a moment’s silence he went on, more seriously than he had yet spoken, “but do tell me, for my own good, how you manage to feel so well disposed toward people--toward everybody!” “Who, me? Oh, I just drink a bucket of beer every time I get thirsty, and every time I begin to feel mean I go out and dance with the girls pretty near all night. The bigger they are the easier I swing ’em.” He leaned back and laughed until things in the room shook. A book fell off the table.