"Tidman," cuts in Mr. Pettigrew, "could you manage to make this young man understand that I don't care to be bothered with such rot?"
Tidman didn't have a chance.
"Excuse me," says I, flashin' Old Hickory's ten thousand dollar check, "but if there's anything overripe about that, just let me know. That's real money, that is. If you want it certified I'll—"
"Stop," says T. Waldo, holdin' up his hand like I was the cross-town traffic. "You must not go on with this silly business chatter. I am not in the least interested. Besides, you are interrupting my tutoring period."
"Your which?" says I, gawpin'.
"Mr. Tidman," he goes on, "is my private tutor. He helps me to study from ten to two every day."
"Gee!" says I. "Ain't you a little late gettin' into college?"
Waldo sighs weary.
"If I must explain," says he, "I prefer to continue improving my mind rather than idle away my days. I've never been to college or to any sort of school. I've been tutored at home ever since I can remember. I did give it up for a time shortly after the death of my father. I thought that the management of the estate would keep me occupied. But I have no taste for business—none at all. And I found that by leaving my father's investments precisely as they came to me my affairs could be simplified. But one must do something. So I engaged Mr. Tidman. What if I am nearly thirty? Is that any reason why I should give up being tutored? There is so much to learn! And to-day's period is especially interesting. We were just about getting to Thorwald the Bitter."
"Did you say Biter or Batter?" says I.