“True?”
“Have you really inflicted this—this on me for a son-in-law?” Mr. Brewster swallowed a few more times, Archie the while watching with a frozen fascination the rapid shimmying of his new relative’s Adam’s-apple. “Go away! I want to have a few words alone with this—This—wassyourdamname?” he demanded, in an overwrought manner, addressing Archie for the first time.
“I told you, father. It’s Moom.”
“Moom?”
“It’s spelt M-o-f-f-a-m, but pronounced Moom.”
“To rhyme,” said Archie, helpfully, “with Bluffinghame.”
“Lu,” said Mr. Brewster, “run away! I want to speak to-to-to—”
“You called me this before,” said Archie.
“You aren’t angry, father, dear?” said Lucilla.
“Oh no! Oh no! I’m tickled to death!”