"Think of a man butterfly!" ejaculated Kathleen, removing her cigarette and her drawl for an unwonted verbal explosion. "Edgar, I should have been the man, and you the girl in our family."
"I should object," he rejoined calmly, all his attention apparently concentrated on the compassing of some intricate fingering of the guitar strings.
"Think of your rooms at college and this!" went on Kathleen.
"I'd like mighty well to have a squint at the loved and lost to take the taste of this out of my mouth," returned the visitor imperturbably.
"How is father?" asked Kathleen, relapsing into her usual manner.
"Smaht," rejoined Edgar.
At the reminder of Brewster's Island, Kathleen's eyes smiled, then grew grave. "I can't bear to have you call father the Administration," she said.
"Why not?—you didn't want me to call him Governor."
"It sounds so—so disrespectful."