Max ran upstairs, two at a time, to see his father, and hastily concocted a detailed account of the business which had detained him. The lie was not required that day. He mentally pigeon-holed it for a later occasion.
His senior greeted him with a loud, glad laugh. Max wondered. His father showed him an invitation card with the arms of the City upon it.
"Max, my boy! Look at that!" cried the old man, clearing his throat. "What d'ye think of Papa now, eh?"
He rose, chuckled violently and rattled his golden watch-chain. Max took the card and read it. It was an invitation to dine with the Lord Mayor and some representatives of commercial houses. He felt a twinge of envy, and then of pride.
"Bravo, Dad!" said the son. They shook hands solemnly. "It'th to-night, too!"
"Yeth," said Emmanuel, taking the invitation and frowning at it. "Thoth idioth at the potht-offith nearly mitht my thecuring thith 'igh honour. 'Ere's the envelope. Look at the thtamp. Pothted a week ago, and I only got it to-day. Put in the wrong letter-box. I've written to the Potht-mathter-General to complain. A 'ot and strong letter I've written. Very nice of the Lord Mayor, ain't it?"
"'Ow did you get it, Dad?"
"Lord knowth! I lent one of 'is footmen money. P'raps that 'elped!"
"'Ave you accepted? You mutht, you know!"
"Twice; to make sure, I sent two letterth by expreth, from different poth-offithes."