"I think it was a mean shame," began Dick wrathfully.
"Dick—Dick!" exclaimed his mother gently.
Mr. Whitney tapped his knee with a letter he had just placed within its envelope, then threw it on the table. "It's the best job I ever did," he cried jubilantly, "to get Jasper out of that business."
Dick sent his two hands deep within their pockets. "Oh! how can you say so?" he cried.
"And how can you question what your father does?" exclaimed Mrs.
Whitney. "Why, that isn't like you, Dick!" with a face full of reproach.
"Oh! let the boy say what he wants to, Marian," broke in her husband easily. "So, Dicky, my lad, you don't think I did just the right thing for Jasper—eh?"
He leaned back in his chair, and surveyed his young son with a twinkle in his eye.
"No, I don't," declared Dick, beginning to rage up and down the room on young indignant feet. "I say it's mean to meddle with a fellow's business. I wouldn't stand it!" he added stoutly.
Mr. Whitney laughed long and loud, despite his wife's shocked, "Dicky, don't, dear!"
"Well, if I didn't know that in a year's time Jasper will come to me and say, 'I thank you!' I should never have gone through with the job in the world," said his father, when he came out of his amusement. "It isn't the pleasantest piece of work a man could select, 'to meddle,' as you call it, with another's affairs."