“It must be a proud moment for you, I am sure, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, to have a son so celebrated,” said the bank-manager advancing.
“Ah, ’tis Stephen—I knew it!” said Mrs. Smith triumphantly to herself.
“We don’t know particulars,” said John.
“Not know!”
“No.”
“Why, ’tis all over town. Our worthy Mayor alluded to it in a speech at the dinner last night of the Every-Man-his-own-Maker Club.”
“And what about Stephen?” urged Mrs. Smith.
“Why, your son has been feted by deputy-governors and Parsee princes and nobody-knows-who in India; is hand in glove with nabobs, and is to design a large palace, and cathedral, and hospitals, colleges, halls, and fortifications, by the general consent of the ruling powers, Christian and Pagan alike.”
“’Twas sure to come to the boy,” said Mr. Smith unassumingly.
“’Tis in yesterday’s St. Launce’s Chronicle; and our worthy Mayor in the chair introduced the subject into his speech last night in a masterly manner.”