“Time enough to answer that question when it’s time to ask it. Instead, let me recount the advantages I can offer you——”
“Oh, Lord!—pardon my interrupting,—but that recounting is an old story, you know. Those advantages are as familiar to my wearied mind as my own name,—or at least as yours,—and your precious Buns——”
“Stop, sir! Don’t you speak slightingly of Binney’s Buns! They were eaten before you were born and will be eaten after you are dead and forgotten.”
“Not forgotten if I put my invention over!”
“You’ll never do it. Your success is problematical. The Buns are an assured fact. They were eaten before the war,—they will be eaten again now that the war is over. They are eaten in England,—they will be eaten in America. If not with the help of your interest and energy, then with that of some one else. Think well, my boy, before you throw away fame and fortune——”
“To acquire fame and fortune!”
“To strive for it and fail—for that is what you will do! You’re riding for a fall, and you’re going to get it!”
“Not if I can prevent it,” Miss Prall interposed, in her low yet incisive tones. “I’m ready to back Ricky’s prospects to the uttermost, if only—”
“If only what? What is this condition you impose on the lad? And why keep it so secret? Tell me, nephew, I’ll let you in on the Buns in spite of any blot on your scutcheon. What is it that troubles your aunt?”
“What always troubles her? What has spoiled and embittered her whole life? Hardened her heart? Corroded her soul? What, but her old ridiculous, absurd, contemptible, damnable Feud!”