Fish. Doris—Doris, an awful thing has occurred——
Doris [looking out the gate]. Here comes Dada. Say, he must be going on to between eighty and ninety years old, if not older.
Fish [gloomily]. Why did your brother-in-law have to go and make him Secretary of the Treasury? He might as well have gone to an old men’s home and said: “See here, I want to get eight old dumb-bells for my cabinet.”
Doris. Oh, Jerry does everything all wrong. You see, he thought his father had read a lot of books—the Bible and the Encyclopædia and the Dictionary and all.
In totters Dada. Prosperity has spruced him up, but not to any alarming extent. The hair on his face is not under cultivation. His small, watery eyes gleam dully in their ragged ovals. His mouth laps faintly at all times, like a lake with tides mildly agitated by the moon.
Fish. Good morning, Mr. Frost.
Dada [dimly]. Hm.
He is under the impression that he has made an adequate response.
Doris [tolerantly]. Dada, kindly meet my fiancé—Senator Fish from Idaho.
Dada [expansively]. Young man, how do you do? I feel very well. You wouldn’t think I was eighty-eight years old, would you?