THE REDEMPTION OF ANTHONY
"Humph! I don't care much for girls myself. Boys are more my style," quoth Mrs. Crompton,
"Thanks," said Peter, offering her tea.
"Oh, you! Peter, you're a perennial youth, like Cupid. You've been the boy wonder of society for ten years."
"Spare me!" cried the victim, on his knees at once, hands raised.
"Pick on some one your own age, Nan," interposed Mrs, Martin.
"I can't—they're all dead."
"In the person of old age, I offer myself as victim, Mrs. Crompton," said The Parson, sitting down beside her.
Peter returned to Mrs. Martin and the tea-table. "Where's Tony?" he asked.
"I don't know—he'll probably turn up later, but I never depend on him."
"Idiosyncrasies of genius, I suppose."
"No, just a Tonyism. It is one of the things that make him interesting."
"Ah, do you mind if I jot that down? Be unreliable and you will be interesting. If
32
