Mr. Brewster was silent.—Much as it went against the grain to have to admit it, there seemed to be something in this.
“What do you propose to do?”
“Become a jolly old ambassador. How much did you offer the chappie?”
“Three thousand dollars. Twice as much as the place is worth. He’s holding out on me for revenge.”
“Ah, but how did you offer it to him, what? I mean to say, I bet you got your lawyer to write him a letter full of whereases, peradventures, and parties of the first part, and so forth. No good, old companion!”
“Don’t call me old companion!”
“All wrong, laddie! Nothing like it, dear heart! No good at all, friend of my youth! Take it from your Uncle Archibald! I’m a student of human nature, and I know a thing or two.”
“That’s not much,” growled Mr. Brewster, who was finding his son-in-law’s superior manner a little trying.
“Now, don’t interrupt, father,” said Lucille, severely. “Can’t you see that Archie is going to be tremendously clever in a minute?”
“He’s got to show me!”