"Well, I guess I will wait and see."
He had, in speaking, the American tone.
"Are you cold?" his son inquired.
The father slowly rubbed his legs.
"Well, I don't know. I can't tell till I feel."
"Perhaps some one might feel for you," said the younger man, laughing.
"Oh, I hope some one will always feel for me! Don't you feel for me, Lord Warburton?"
"Oh yes, immensely," said the gentleman addressed as Lord Warburton, promptly. "I am bound to say you look wonderfully comfortable."
"Well, I suppose I am, in most respects." And the old man looked down at his green shawl, and smoothed it over his knees. "The fact is, I have been comfortable so many years that I suppose I have got so used to it I don't know it."
"Yes, that's the bore of comfort," said Lord Warburton. "We only know when we are uncomfortable."
"It strikes me that we are rather particular," said his companion.
"Oh yes, there is no doubt we're particular," Lord Warburton murmured.
And then the three men remained silent a while; the two younger ones standing looking down at the other, who presently asked for more tea.
"I should think you would be very unhappy with that shawl," said Lord Warburton, while his companion filled the old man's cup again.
"Oh no, he must have the shawl!" cried the gentleman in the velvet coat. "Don't put such ideas as that into his head."
"It belongs to my wife," said the old man, simply.
