most painful scene last Sunday afternoon with the grandmother of the Person.
As the occurrence had been reported to the great Proconsul, the Person's venerable relative had not behaved as nicely as she might have done.
Son was awfully cut up about it, but he didn't quite agree. With all respect to Mother, he could not help thinking that Miss Caspar's venerable relative had been in receipt of provocation.
White eyebrows erected themselves archwise.
"But we won't go into That," said Father.
Perhaps it would be better not, said the Green Chartreuse in an aside to Messrs. Crosse and Blackwell's marmalade.
Very disagreeable, though, thought Father, and very serious, too. There was nothing more painful to a right-thinking parent than to see a son—and an Eldest Son, too—making hay of his prospects.
Didn't quite agree again with his father. The Green Chartreuse was suffering evidently from an attack of valor this morning.
"But there are the facts, my dear boy. Let them be looked in the face."
"I wish, father, you would consent to meet Mary. She's an absolute nailer, you know."
Father was so disconcerted by the behavior of Son that he kind of began to clothe his thoughts with
