"Oh, have you?" asked Peter. "Why?"
"It is a mystery to me," said his mother, "how short-sighted men can be. Do you happen to know his income?"
"I happen to have noticed his shoes," Peter retorted: "they are the genuine co-respondent article, and no mistake."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Do you like the chap, Mother?"
"What's wrong with him? There is nothing to dislike so far as I can see."
"That's just it," Peter admitted. "There is nothing to like or dislike—except his shoes."
Mrs. Carmichael decided that Peter was just being tiresome.
"It might mean a great deal to you if Ferlie accepted him," she declared. "He would be sure to make a settlement upon her—and if you could even borrow money, Peter, just now——"
Peter started slightly and began to whistle out of tune. Still whistling, he strolled to the door. On the threshold he broke off to say: "Well, of course, it's none of my business. To me there seems nothing to take hold of in the man, one way or another." A little pause, and then, "But it's Ferlie's pigeon, after all."