“Not gone for a training-run, David?” asked he.
“No, sir. Plugs—er, gave me leave-off.”
Adams lit his pipe, and sat down on the hearthrug, which was his usual place.
“On what grounds?” he asked.
David laughed.
“I carried him round the house, sir, to show him I was in good training,” he said. “He didn’t mind a bit.”
“That’ll do for my text,” said Adams. “I wanted to sermonise you. That’s the sort of thing, David, that I wish you wouldn’t do. You are rather given to undermining authority. It doesn’t set a very good example, and though you probably don’t know it, the house takes its tune from you and one or two others. You are pals with Gregson, I know. And that’s all the more reason why you should support him. And, while I’m on the subject, I want to ask you not to swear so much.”
David sat up in astonishment.
“Sir, I bet you’ve never heard me swear,” he said.
“I know I haven’t, but I’ve heard young Jevons, and I draw the perfectly correct conclusion that you do. I’m awfully grateful, by the way, for your taking him up as you’ve done, and teaching him to wash his hands, and not look as if everybody wanted to thrash him. Did anybody suggest it to you?”