Mrs. Harmon looked at her son and shook her head gravely, which was an admonition he always understood.
"Did you see anything you liked, to-day?" she asked incautiously, by way of changing the conversation.
"Rather!" exclaimed Archie, promptly. "I met Sylvia Strahan--jukes!"
Helen shuddered, as she saw the look in his face and the glitter in his eyes.
"I wish you could remember not to say 'jukes' every other minute, Archie," she said, for the thousandth time.
"Do you think Sylvia minds when I say 'jukes'?" asked the young man, suddenly.
"I am sure she thinks it a very ugly and senseless word."
"Does she? Really?" He was silent for a few moments, pondering the question. "Well," he resumed at last, in a regretful tone, "I've always said it, and I like it, and I don't see any harm in it. But, of course, if Sylvia doesn't like it, I've got to give it up, that's all. I'm always going to do what Sylvia likes, now, as long as I live. And what you like, too, mother," he added as an apologetic and dutiful afterthought. "But then, you're pretty sure to like the same things, after all."
"You really must not go on in this way about Sylvia, my dear," said Helen. "It is too absurd."
Archie's heavy brows met right across his forehead as he looked up with something like a glare in his eyes, and his voice was suddenly thick and indistinct, when he answered.