"Well, of all the unfatherly brutes," he said, "to shut down on his own daughter's husband!"
"Hold on there, Mr. Feldman," Philip interrupted; "he don't know he's shutting down on his daughter's husband, because we was secretly married, y' understand? And even to-day yet the old man don't know nothing about it."
"What do you mean?" Feldman asked. "Why wouldn't he know his own daughter was married?"
"Because she's living home yet," Philip replied, and "I can't persuade her to go housekeeping, neither."
Feldman frowned for a moment and then he struck the desk with his fist.
"By jiminy!" he shouted, "you've got the old man by the whiskers!"
It was now Philip's turn to ask what Feldman meant.
"Why," the latter explained, "your wife's inchoate right of dower is still outstanding."
"That's where you make a big mistake, Mr. Feldman," Philip corrected. "My Birdie is a neat dresser and never so much as a pin out of place."
"You don't understand," Feldman continued. "As soon as Birdie and you got married she took an interest in your property."