"Pitt, old man," he said warmly, "I—dash it! I don't know what to say. If it hadn't been for you—I always did like Americans. I always thought it bally rot that that fuss happened in—in—whenever it was. If it hadn't been for fellows like you," he continued, addressing Sir Thomas once more, "there wouldn't have been any of that frightful Declaration of Independence business. Would there, Pitt, old man?"
These were deep problems, too spacious for casual examination. Jimmy shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, I guess Sir Thomas might not have got along with George Washington, anyway," he said.
"Of course not. Well"—Spennie moved toward the door—"I'm off downstairs to see what Aunt Julia has to say about it all."
A shudder, as if from some electric shock, shook Sir Thomas. He leaped to his feet.
"Spencer," he cried, "I forbid you to say a word to your aunt."
"Oh!" said his lordship. "You do, do you?"
Sir Thomas shivered.
"She would never let me hear the last of it."
"I bet she wouldn't. I'll go and see."