"I don't believe in very pretty girls for business positions."
"Don't, eh? Well, you can take it from me, my boy, that this partic'lar pretty girl is all right."
Bob glanced at his watch, then rose and stretched himself.
"Half-past two! We can't do any more to-night, Dad. By the way," he suddenly remembered his promise to his mother, "you're not thinking of closing Ipping House?"
Hiram was silent a moment, then, slipping his thumbs into the arm-holes of his waistcoat, he spoke with a wise drawl.
"Bob, after you've been married a while you'll find that a man thinks a lot o' things and then, when his wife gets at him with the water-works, why he just takes it out in thinkin'."
"Then Ipping House stays open—just as it is."
"There may be some modifications in the 'just as it is' part of it, but—well, yes, Ipping House stays open."
"I'm glad of that. And the relatives? You're not really going to put the relatives to work, are you?"
Hiram closed his jaws with a vigorous snap. "Am I? You just show up in this library to-morrow morning right after breakfast and watch me give the English aristocracy a little of Hiram Baxter's first aid to the injured. Good-night, Son."