"Oh, Peter!" exclaimed Mrs. Higginbotham coyly.
"And I want to renew my youth, Martha," continued Mr. Binney with some fervour. "I've worked very hard ever since I was a boy, as you know, and I never had the fun that I should like to have had, or that the young fellows I see about me now have—my son, for instance."
"Dear boy," murmured Mrs. Higginbotham.
"Dear boy, certainly," acquiesced Mr. Binney, "and lucky boy, too, Martha. Look what I've done for that boy. I've sent him to Eton, where I never had a chance of going, or anywhere like it. Why, Martha, life is one continuous round of pleasure at Eton. And now he is going to Cambridge. There's a place for you! Why, I assure you, you could hardly believe the fun that young fellows have at a place like Cambridge."
"Yes, I can. I've read books about it," said Mrs. Higginbotham, "and I had a nephew there once who used to tell me things. Ah, Mr. Binney, if I were only what I used to be twenty years ago, and you were at Cambridge!"
"Pooh, Martha," said Mr. Binney. "You weren't half so attractive as you are now, I'll be bound. And as for me, though I am forty-five, I'm as active as ever and could hold up my head with the best of them."
"I know you could, Peter," said Mrs. Higginbotham.
"Now, Martha, I've got something in my mind," said Mr. Binney. "It's been there for some time, but I haven't liked to mention it to you because I was afraid—well, I didn't know how you might take it. But really, you've taken what I have said in such a way as—as to be extremely gratifying to me, and upon my word I don't believe you'll think my idea so very absurd after all."
Mrs. Higginbotham looked at him with deep interest depicted in her face.
Mr. Binney squared himself and sat up in his chair. "Lucius is going to Cambridge in October," he said. "Now what do you say to my going with him?"