Phil took up a paper; the advertising page--which happened to be the first--was very interesting, nevertheless Phil’s eyes wandered, for his mind was just then curious about the iron trade. He looked around him for indications of the business; but the only bit of iron in sight was a paper-weight on the desk before him. Closer scrutiny was rewarded by the discovery of a bit of angle-iron, a few inches long, lying on a window-sill. In the mean time the proprietor had scribbled a few lines, assorted some papers, and closed his desk by drawing down the top. Then he said,-- “Now let’s go in search of peace and comfort.” “I shouldn’t think you’d have to leave your office for that,” said Phil, who had found the counting-room greatly unlike what he had expected. “There’s no peace where business is going on,” Tramlay replied; “although I don’t know, after careful thought, of any noisier place than a New York restaurant. Here we are. Come in.” Phil found himself in one of the very large and noisy places where New York business-men herd about noonday. Phil protested, in the usual rural manner, that he was not at all hungry, but Tramlay ordered so skilfully that both were duly occupied for an hour. Phil found his host attentive, yet occasionally absent-minded. He might have spared himself the trouble of making a mental memorandum to study out the why and wherefore of this apparently incongruous pair of qualities had he known that Tramlay was cudgelling his brain to know how to dispose of his rural visitor after dinner, without offending. While they were sipping the coffee,--a beverage which Phil had never before tasted in the middle of the day,--Mr. Marge lounged up to them, looking exactly as intelligent, listless, and unchangeable as the night before. “How are you, Marge?” said Tramlay. Phil afterward wondered that his host could smile so genially on so cold a person. “As usual,” replied Marge, with a slight inclination of the head. “Good-morning, Mr. Hayn. Don’t let me interrupt conversation. I merely meant to say I’ve nothing to do this afternoon, and would be glad to show Mr. Hayn about town a little, if he likes.” “That’s ever so good of you,” said Tramlay; “for the truth is, I was wondering how I could find time to do it myself, and fearing I couldn’t.” “Entirely at his service,” said Marge, as lifelessly as an automaton. “And both come and dine with me this evening,” suggested Tramlay: “entirely informal, you know.” “I should be delighted,” said Marge, in his unvarying manner.