"Do quite well, thanks," said Father, in a deep base voice.
A state of armed neutrality?—ye-es, it did seem rather like it. Father didn't seem quite to know where to begin: Son knew better than to provide assistance.
"See in the paper that Van rather got across old Balsquith last night?" said Son conversationally.
Father had heard the debate from the Peers' Gallery.
Son wondered what would win the Coronation Vase—havin' forgotten that Father didn't go racin'.
"Philip," said Father, in tones of deep emotion, "it seems to me that you—" And Father paused.
—Are going to the Devil as fast as you can, is really what your distinguished parent desires to say to you, but he is trying to say it without treading on your feelings, which is more consideration than you deserve, you blighter!—thus the Twin Brethren for the personal information of the Green Chartreuse.
No business of his if I am, was the very unfilial rejoinder of the latter.
"Philip," said Father, after a pause, "your mother is very upset."
Young fellow was sorry to hear it—very, but the weather is always so full of surprises in February.
Mother had not yet recovered, it appeared, from the
