“But I do loathe the man—I do; I do. I am honest. He has every quality of what Dick tenderly calls a G. I. P., except the probability of ultimate usefulness.”
“Reasonably complete that,” said Lyndsay, while Jack grinned his appreciation.
“He is a clergyman, Anne,” remarked Margaret, with emphasis.
“That only makes it worse. I have heard him preach. Don’t you think a man who has no humor must be a bad man?”
“Anne!”
“One moment, dear. Let me finish him. I was going to say, Archie, that if a mule was to kick that man just for fun, he would never know he was kicked.”
“That covers the ground. You should have edited a newspaper, Anne. Such vituperative qualities are wasted here.”
“Indeed, I think so,” said Mrs. Lyndsay, rising at the end of her luncheon. “It may amuse you, Archie, but for the boys it is bad, dear, bad.”
Upon this the twins, enchanted to hear of wickedness, became critically attentive to the matter, and for a moment refrained from their diet. Anne, a little vexed, smiled as her sister-in-law stood opposite, but made no other reply.
“I dare say it amuses you, my dear Anne.”