Dick obeyed.
"Dick, I believe you are the only person in the world who has any control over your father."
"Yes. Even in my pinafores I learnt the great lesson that to control one's parents is the first duty of the modern child."
"Don't be silly," his aunt rejoined sharply. Then she looked him over. "Yes, you must have some control over him, for he lets you remain in the army, though an army is one of his abominations."
"Theoretically it's a great grief to him," replied Dick. "But you see I have done fairly well, so actually he's ready to burst with pride. Every sentimental philosopher sooner or later breaks his head against his own theories."
Mrs. Pettifer nodded her head in commendation.
"That's an improvement on your last remark, Dick. It's true. And your father's going to break his head very badly unless you stop him."
"How?"
"Mrs. Ballantyne."
All the flippancy died out of Dick Hazlewood's face. He became at once grave, wary.