“We aren't getting very far this way, Captain,” observed the visitor. “There's no use dodging, I suppose. I, for one, am not very well pleased. Mrs. Fosdick, for another, isn't pleased at all; she is absolutely and entirely opposed to the whole affair. She won't hear of it, that's all, and she said so much that I thought perhaps I had better come down here at once, see you, and—and the young fellow with the queer name—”
“My grandson.”
“Why yes. He is your grandson, isn't he? I beg your pardon.”
“That's all right. I shan't fight with you because you don't like his name. Go ahead. You decided to come and see him—and me—?”
“Yes, I did. I decided to come because it has been my experience that a frank, straight talk is better, in cases like this, than a hundred letters. And that the time to talk was now, before matters between the young foo—the young people went any further. Don't you agree with me?”
Captain Zelotes nodded.
“That now is a good time to talk? Yes, I do,” he said.
“Good! Then suppose we talk.”
“All right.”
There was another interval of silence. Then Fosdick broke it with a chuckle. “And I'm the one to do the talking, eh?” he said.