“But shall we need a very large one?” asked my mother.
“One never knows,” said the grey man. “If I should go into Parliament—”
At this point a hissing sound arose from the neighbourhood of the fire.
“It looks,” said my mother, “as if it were done.”
“If you will hold the dish,” said the grey man, “I think I can pour it in without spilling.”
Again I must have dozed.
“It depends,” said the grey man, “upon what he is going to be. For the classics, of course, Oxford.”
“He's going to be very clever,” said my mother. She spoke as one who knows.
“We'll hope so,” said the grey man.
“I shouldn't be surprised,” said my mother, “if he turned out a poet.”