Waddles can be very formal and dignified and diplomatic when he wants to be, and as a salve spreader he has few equals and no superiors. He pays a compliment in such a bluff, hearty fashion that it carries with it an air of absolute sincerity.
"Major," he began, "I can't tell you how delighted I am to hear that you have taken up the game again. Aside from the pleasure, it is bound to benefit your health."
"Eh?" said the Major, staring at Waddles intently. "Oh, yes! I'm feeling quite well at present, thanks."
"And you'll feel better for taking exercise," continued Waddles. "We are hoping that you will enter our Invitation Tournament next week. You'll get a number of good matches, meet some charming people and make some friends. Play begins on Wednesday."
"Ah!" said the Major.
"You can pick your own partner in the qualifying round." And here Waddles brought out the envelope containing the invitation. "I thought likely you might want to play with your nephew."
The Major took the envelope and opened it. After he had read the inclosure he looked up at Waddles and smiled.
"Very kind of you, I'm sure," said he. "Most kind. Cyril will appreciate this.... Shan't we have a drink?"
"Can you beat him?" said Waddles to me when we were back in the lounging room. "Just about as chummy as an oyster!"
"Either that or very inattentive," said I; "but just the same I think he'll play. Cyril will persuade him."