“You’re a pair,” he opined, “both tarred with the same brush.”
“And the brush?” asked Miss Prall, belligerently.
“Modern sophistication and the present-day fad of belittling everything that is interesting or pleasurable.”
“That mental phase is the inevitable result of worldly experience,” said the lady, with a cynical smile. “How is it that you preserve such youthful interest?”
“Well—” and the Englishman looked a little quizzical, “you see, the girls are still young.”
“Very young,” assented Bates, gravely. “There’s a new bunch of Squabs at the Gaynight Revue that’ll do you up! Better buy that place out, Unkie!”
“Perhaps; but now, young Richard, let’s discuss some more imminent, if not more important, questions. Say, Buns, for instance.”
“Nothing doing. I’ve said my last word on the Bun subject, and if you persist in recurring to it, you’ll only get that last word over again,—repeated, reiterated, recapitulated and,—if necessary,—reënforced!”
“With some good, strong epithets, I suppose,” remarked his uncle, calmly. “I don’t blame you, Rick, for being bored by my persistency, but you see I haven’t yet given up all hope of making you see reason. Why I do——”
“Well, when you do—what?”