“Why, certainly,” the young man answered with gravity. “Isn’t that the way to take it?”
“Oh, bless you, no. It’s too grim a business. The proper spirit to take it in is one of unseemly levity.”
“I don’t think I understand you—unless you’re joking.”
“You need limbering up a bit, that’s all,” declared his father. “But I say, we must get you a decent hat. Later in the day I’m going to trot you off to Mrs. Midsomer-Norton’s for tea. Well stop at a hatter’s now.” And he gave the necessary instructions to his coachman.
“What is the matter with the hat I’ve got on?”
“We’re not wearing that shape in London.”
“What will a new one cost?”
“Don’t know. I’m sure. Five-and twenty shillings, I expect.”
“Well, this one cost me eight dollars in Boston just about three weeks ago. Don’t you think it would be extravagant to get a new one so soon?”
“Oh, damn the extravagance. We must ‘gae fine’ whatever we do.”