young fellow who he thinks has it in him to get on, then he backs him. He
believes that nothing succeeds like success, having tested the truth of
the saying himself. When something disagreeable has to be done, he does
it and damns the consequences but he does not shrink from them.

One afternoon old Peter Knott went to see the famous art dealer. The
latter was sitting in a deep leather chair with his feet near the fender,
a silver tea-service resplendent under a high silver lamp beside him. To
Peter Knott, as he entered, the impression was that of a comfort both
solid and luxurious.

Ringsmith's strong-willed face lit up. He had much regard for Peter, in
spite of the latter's being almost the only man who did not hesitate to
say what he thought to him, whether palatable or not.

"Ha, old bird! I know what you've come for."

Ringsmith has a large mouth, and although he is getting towards sixty his
teeth are strong and sound. His voice is loud and its tone bullying, as
of one accustomed to ordering people about and to having his way. Somehow
this doesn't offend, perhaps because you expect it of a man with his red,
mottled skin, bushy eyebrows, and heavy jaw.

Old Peter finished his bit of buttered toast and quietly sipped his tea.

"Yes?" he said.

"What is it this time, Peter, a box for the Red Cross Matinee or a
subscription to the new fund? Come on, out with it."