“You wouldn’t have me keep it, would you, for doing that work?”
“Who said anything about keeping it? But don’t feed it back to Bart Snyder. Why not contribute it to the Public Health League? It’s always got a handsome deficit.”
“In graceful recognition of my having a son-inlaw as president of it, I suppose.”
“I’m not president any more. My term was up last night. They didn’t honor me with a reelection,” said Mr. Clyde, with a rather too obvious glumness, which, for once, escaped the sharp old lady.
“The slinkums!” she cried. “After all the time and work you’ve given to it!”
“Well,” said the ex-incumbent philosophically, “there’s one comfort. They’ve put a better man in my place.”
“No such a thing,” declared his mother-in-law, with vehement partisanship. “They couldn’t find one. Who was it?”
“Give you one guess.”
“Was it you, young man?” queried she, fixing the Health Master with a baleful eye.
“Oh, no; a better man than I,” he hastened to assure her.