“It does.”
“But should it, dear, and at the cost of temptation to others? Go out, boys.” The twins went forth merry. “And—and, dear, don’t you think—?”
Between question and answer Lyndsay made swift retreat, with an explanatory cigar-case in his hand.
“Yes, I think, Margaret”; and then, the gray eyes lighting up, “I think, Margaret, that you do not always think. If you did, you would criticize that wicked Archie.”
“Archie! Archie! What do you mean?”
“I admit your premise. Homicide applied to character is bad enough; but don’t you think that Archie ought to give up killing salmon?”
“What?”
“You see it teaches the boys to be cruel. It is the sad beginning of murder. There is only a difference of degree in it. Suppose, now, a man kills a monkey, and then—you follow me, dear—and then—oh, do come here, Rose—and then he gets a shot somewhere in Africa at the missing link. You see where killing salmon lands you at last. Where shall we draw the line?”
Rose laughed, despite her mother’s face of puzzled yet obstinate gravity.
“What do you mean, Anne?”