"Yes, yes,—I know."
"And yet you say you are dissatisfied!" She stared. "What more can you want?"
"Well, for one thing, to go to school," was Jack's amiable response.
"Go to school! Why—why, you've already had the best of educations! Exeter—Yale—not to speak of private tutors!"
"And what did I learn? That is," he added, "over and above being a fairly decent half-back and learning how to spend money—u'm—pretty thoroughly."
"I trust," said Mrs. De Peyster with all her dignity, "that you learned to be a gentleman!"
"Oh, I suppose I learned that all right," Jack acquiesced. "And I've been working hard at the profession ever since—sixteen to twenty hours a day, no half-holidays and no Sundays off. I can't stand it any longer. So I've decided to go on strike."
"Strike?" exclaimed his mother, bewildered.
"Yes. For better conditions. I'm tired loafing such long hours. I'd like a little leisure in which to work."