The very rapid lengthening of Charlie’s legs had been a subject of much discussion at Beverly during the summer and the necessity for bestowing upon him the dignity of man-style garments had been manifest to everybody sometime before I would consent to recognise it.
One day the telephone rang and Helen answered it. A voice at the other end of the line said:
“I’d like to speak to Master Charlie Taft, please.”
“Somebody wants to speak to you, Charlie,” said Helen. Then sister-like she stood by to see who it was and what he could possibly want with her unimportant younger brother. She was surprised to hear this half of a very earnest conversation:
“Who said so?”
“Certainly not!”
“Well, somebody has been giving you misinformation.”
“An absolute denial.”
“Well, if you want to quote me exactly you may say that I said the rumour is false; wholly without foundation.”
“All right. Good-bye.”