Archie waved her away with the large gesture of a man of blood and iron interrupted while concentrating.
"Leave us, woman! We would be alone! Retire into the jolly old background and amuse yourself for a bit. Read a book. Do acrostics. Charge ahead, laddie."
"Father!" said Bill, again.
"Yes, my boy, yes? What is it?"
"Father!"
Archie picked up the red-covered volume that lay on the table.
"Half a mo', old son. Sorry to stop you, but I knew there was something. I've just remembered. Your walk. All wrong!"
"All wrong?"
"All wrong! Where's the chapter on the Art of Walking? Here we are. Listen, dear old soul. Drink this in. 'In walking, one should strive to acquire that swinging, easy movement from the hips. The correctly-poised walker seems to float along, as it were.' Now, old bean, you didn't float a dam' bit. You just galloped in like a chappie charging into a railway restaurant for a bowl of soup when his train leaves in two minutes. Dashed important, this walking business, you know. Get started wrong, and where are you? Try it again.… Much better." He turned to Lucille. "Notice him float along that time? Absolutely skimmed, what?"
Lucille had taken a seat, and was waiting for enlightenment.
"Are you and Bill going into vaudeville?" she asked.
Archie, scrutinising his brother-in-law closely, had further criticism to make.
"'The man of self-respect and self-confidence,'" he
