“I wish Philip would not work so hard,” said the mother anxiously. “He has had no holiday this summer.”
“What said Bismarck?” replied Uncle Robert. “‘To youth I have but three words of counsel—Work, work, work!’”
Mrs. Barrimore laughed girlishly. “Ah, Robert!” she said, “Bismarck also said, ‘A good speaker must be somewhat of a poet, and cannot therefore adhere mathematically to the truth.’ It is not good for youth to work without amusement to break it. Philip has no amusements. It can’t be good for him.”
“It is not,” acknowledged Mr. Burns. “I observed to-day that Philip is putting on flesh. He will get stout if he does not take exercise.”
“He rides,” defended Mrs. Barrimore.
“Rides!” echoed her brother. “He ought to walk and play cricket and swim!”
“But his work takes it out of him. He is too tired for these things,” objected the mother. “But he ought to go to a play sometimes. We get very good companies down here.”
“Bah!” answered Uncle Robert. “Stuffy theatres are no good. What Philip wants is open-air exercise. Look at me!”
Mrs. Barrimore did so, and laughed again softly.
“You are stout, you know,” she told him.