He laughed a highly disagreeable laugh, and marched into the house. Presently he bawled for dinner, and Wilna went away. For her sake I had remained calm and dignified, but presently I went out and kicked up the turf two or three times; and, having foozled my wrath, I went back to dinner, realising that I might as well begin to accustom myself to my future father-in-law.
It seemed that he had a mania for prunes, and that's all he permitted anybody to have for dinner.
Disgusted, I attempted to swallow the loathly stewed fruit, watching Blythe askance as he hurriedly stuffed himself, using a tablespoon, with every symptom of relish.
"Now," he cried, shoving back his chair, "I'm going to paint a moonlight by moonlight. Wilna, if Billy arrives, make him comfortable, and tell him I'll return by midnight." And without taking the trouble to notice me at all, he strode away toward the veranda, chewing vigorously upon his last prune.
"Your father," said I, "is eccentric. Genius usually is. But he is a most interesting and estimable man. I revere him."
"It is kind of you to say so," said the girl, in a low voice.
I thought deeply for a few moments, then:
"Who is 'Billy?'" I inquired, casually.
I couldn't tell whether it was a sudden gleam of sunset light on her face, or whether she blushed.
"Billy," she said softly, "is a friend of father's. His name is William Green."