"Do it again."
Ben looked so comic, shaping his mouth, Martin couldn't help laughing.
"You look like a catfish. Can you do it too?"
"Not so well as Ben. Gosh, didn't you ever see any one blow smoke rings before?"
"No. My father doesn't smoke."
Ben looked a little perplexed. He had an uneasy feeling that perhaps the artist was making fun of them in some obscure way.
Phyllis called from the stairs. "George, will you come up and speak to the children? They want to be reassured about the Picnic."
"Do I have to finish this medicine?" Martin asked.
George grinned at him, rather tickled by this drollery.
"You must do as you think best. Make yourselves at home, you fellows. I'll be back in a minute."
"Don't you like it?" said Ben.
"No."
"Well, I can help you."
"It was nice of you to blow a smoke ring to amuse me."
There was silence, which Ben concluded by taking the other glass of whisky.
