The General was pacing up and down the hall. He appeared to be in an excellent humor; his face beamed with smiles and he rubbed his hands together as if in expectation of some good fortune.
"You sent for me, Uncle Harold," said May, quite bravely.
The General bent his head and went into the library, followed by May, who was beginning to feel apprehensive of the character of the interview.
"Sit down, my boy," said the General, graciously, sitting down himself as he spoke.
May sat down; clasped her hands; tried to look unconcerned and succeeded in looking both uncomfortable and unhappy.
"I will not deny that you have been a great disappointment to me, Gay. From the promise of your babyhood I was led to believe that you would be a gentleman."
The General's manner, as well as his words, seemed to cast a reflection upon somebody, and May was prompt to resent both.
"Father and mother are gentlemen," she said. "That is, father is a gentleman, and it is not their fault if I'm not one."
The General stared slightly. He was not prepared for so spirited an answer, albeit it was rather ludicrous.