"Sir," said Mr. Wright, sinking into his chair breathlessly, and tapping the table with one veined old finger; "when I was a young man, it was not thought proper to introduce the name of a female into a discussion between gentlemen."
"Well," Dr. Lavendar admitted, "maybe not—when you were young. But all of us young folks in Old Chester know perfectly well that Sam is smitten, and we are ignoring it."
"What! His—mother knows it?"
"His father knows it perfectly well," said Dr. Lavendar smiling.
Mr. Wright got up again, his fingers twitching with impatience. "Lavendar," he began—another bird trilled, and snarling with annoyance, he pulled the blue apron from the first cage and threw it over the second. "These creatures drive me distracted! … Lavendar, to get Sam out of Old Chester, I might almost consent to see his—mother, if there was no other way to accomplish it."
At that Dr. Lavendar stopped smiling. "Benjamin," he said solemnly, "if any foolishness on the part of the boy brings you to such wisdom, the hand of the Lord will be in it!"
"I don't want to see—his relations!" cried Benjamin Wright; "but Sam's got to get away from this place for a while, and if you won't persuade his—mother to allow it, why I might be driven to seeing—her. But why shouldn't he try to get his truck published?"
Dr. Lavendar was very much moved. "If you'll only see your son," he said, "this other business will straighten itself out somehow. But—" he paused; "getting Sam's play published isn't a very good excuse for seeing him. I'd rather have him think you were worried because the boy had an attack of calf-love. No; I wouldn't want you to talk about theatrical things," Dr. Lavendar ended thoughtfully.
"Why not?"
"Well, the fact is, Samuel has no sympathy with dramas or playhouses. I do not myself approve of the theatre, but I am told respectable persons have adopted the profession. Samuel, however, can't find any good in it."