"Come, Father, don't be silly!"
"No," said Van der Welcke, crossly, "don't bother me. I'll stay on at the Witte."
"But don't you see that means starting off with a manifestation? Whereas, if you wait in for Mamma peacefully and we all have dinner together, then things'll come right of themselves. That'll be much easier than if you go staying out at once: Mamma would only think it rude."
"Rude? . . . Rude? . . ."
"Well, there's nothing to flare up about! And you just come home to dinner. Then you'll be on the right side."
"I'll think it over. If I don't look out, you'll be bossing me altogether."
"Well, then, don't mind me, stay at the Witte."
"Oho! So you're offended, young man?"
"Oh, no! I'd rather you came home, of course; but, if you prefer to dine at the Witte, do."
"Dearly-beloved son!" said Van der Welcke, throwing out his hands with a comical gesture of resignation. "Your father will obey your sapient wishes."
"Fond Father, I thank you. But I must be off to school now."
"Good-bye, then . . . and you'd better forget those sands."
They both exploded and Addie hurried away and vanished, shaking with his painful stomach-laugh,
