“Oh, well, Master Palgrave Pawson. P.P., P.P. What a mouthful it seems to be!”
“Roy!”
“I’ve tried, mother; but I do get on so badly with him. I can’t help it; I don’t like him, and he doesn’t like me, and it will always be the same.”
“But why? Why do you not like him?”
“Because—because—well, he always smiles at me so.”
“That does not seem as if he disliked you. Rather the reverse.”
“He’s so smooth and oily.”
“It is only his manner, my dear. He seems to be very sincere, and to have your welfare at heart.”
“Yes, that’s it, mother; he won’t let me alone.”
“But he is your tutor, my dear. You know perfectly well that he came to be your father’s secretary and your tutor combined.”