“Bad! bad!” he went on, shaking his head.  “And you are growing as thin as a lath.  When did you ride out?”

“Oh, not for two months past.  I’ve been too closely occupied with business.”

“Business!” there was a slight air of contempt in Carlton’s voice and manner.  “I hate to hear this everlasting cant, if I must so call it, about business; as if there were nothing else in the world to think or care about.  Men bury themselves between four brick walls, and toil from morning until night, like prison-slaves; and if you talk to them about an hour’s recreation for body and mind, all you can get out of them is—­’Business! business!’ Pah!  I’m out of all patience with it.  Life was made for enjoyment as well as toil.  But come, what’ll you drink?  I’ve preached to you until I’m as dry as a chip.”

The two men stepped to the bar and drank.  As they turned away, Carlton drew his arm within that of Wilkinson, saying, as he did so—­

“As it is an age since I saw you, I must prolong the pleasure of this meeting.  Your work is done for the day, of course.”

“No, I can’t just say that it is.”

“Well, I can then.  If you’ve been immuring yourself, as you have on your own confession, for some two months, or more, an afternoon with good company is indispensable.  So, consider this a holiday, and think no more of bags, boxes, cash-book, or ledger.  I bought a splendid trotter yesterday, and am going to try his speed.  You are a first-rate judge of horse-flesh, and I want your opinion.  So, consider yourself engaged for a flying trip to Mount Airy.”

“You are a tempter,” said Wilkinson, laughing.

“Oh, no.  A friend, who will give health to your veins, and life to your spirit.”

“Let me see,” said Wilkinson, now turning his thoughts upon his business—­“if there isn’t something special that requires my attention.  Yes,” he added, after thinking for a few moments—­“a customer promised to be in after dinner.  He is from the country, and bought a good bill last season.  You will have to excuse me, Carlton.  I’ll go with you to-morrow.”

“Indeed, and I shall do no such thing,” was promptly answered.  “Let your customers call in the morning—­always the best time for business.  Men don’t buy in the afternoon.”

“My experience says differently.”

“A fig for your experience!  No, no, my good friend.  You’re booked for a ride with me this very afternoon; so let your business and customers take care of themselves.  Health is better than dollars; and length of days than great possessions.  There’s wisdom in miniature for you.  Wouldn’t I make a capital preacher, ha?”

“But Carlton”—­

“But me no buts, my hearty!” and Carlton slapped Wilkinson on the shoulder as he spoke, in a familiar manner.  “You’re my prisoner for the rest of the day.  Do you understand that?”

“You’ve bought a fast trotter, have you?” said Wilkinson, after a brief but hurried self-communion, the end of which was a determination to take the afternoon for pleasure, and let his customer call in the morning.