“Indeed! Since last Wednesday? How interesting!”
Malcolm did not seem to find the topic interesting, for he smothered a yawn. His mother changed the subject. On their way home, however, she again referred to it.
“You must make it a point to see her every day,” she declared. “No matter what happens, you must do it.”
“Oh, Lord!” groaned her son, “I can’t. There’s the deuce and all on ’Change just now, and the billiard tournament’s begun at the Club. My days and nights are full up. Once a week is all she should expect, I think.”
“No matter what you think or what she expects, you must do as I say.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like the looks of things.”
“Oh, rubbish! You’re always seeing bugaboos. Uncle Hayseed is pacified, isn’t he? I’ve paid the Moriarty crowd off. Beastly big bills they were, too!”
“Humph! Uncle Hayseed, as you call him, is anything but a fool. But he isn’t the particular trouble at present. He and I understand each other, I believe, and he will be reasonable. But—there is this Pearson. I don’t like his calling so frequently.”
Malcolm laughed in huge scorn. “Pearson!” he sneered. “Why, he’s nothing but a penny-a-liner, without the penny. Surely you’re not afraid Caroline will take a fancy to him. She isn’t an idiot.”