"If you like," she said lightly; "any old name will do—Smith—Jones—Billikins——"
"Even Par—Parkes?" he suggested.
"Yes—even Parkes," she laughed. "Anything but Marsh——"
The door opened and Mrs. Parkes entered, carrying a tray with tea.
"Here we are—here we are," she said cheerily, "a fresh cup of tea—I opened a new packet of Lipton on purpose. Say, that Lipton makes elegant tea! Oh, I've forgotten the toast. Harry, run down and get it, there's a dear boy." Turning to Paula, she added: "He is a dear boy, isn't he?"
"Just like his father, I think you once told me," rejoined Paula, with a covert smile.
"Did I? Well, he is in some ways—and in some ways he isn't."
"Mother, please!" exclaimed Harry. "I'm afraid I'm like you, Miss Paula—I don't like to be reminded of my relations— I'll get the toast, mother."
He left the room to go foraging for toast, while Mrs. Parkes began pouring out tea.
"Did the dear boy tell you?" she asked. "He said he was going to apologize but——"