“Down, Rex!” he said to the sentimental setter. “Don’t bore my father.” And he pulled Rex away by the tail.
At bedtime, when the nurse came to bear him off, he raised his arms to Phil.
“Can I bore you now?”
Phil laughed and kissed him good night.
“Funny little cuss, isn’t he?” said Phil.
“He’s a very unusual child,” said this very unusual Mother.
“Unusually ugly, you mean.”
But he couldn’t get a rise out of Nell.
“Oh, you’ll learn to appreciate him yet.”
Shortly before Phil left for his next trip the paternal passion had its way with this reserved father, for once. Some little street boys, as they were technically classified by the nurse, had been ordered off the drive by Junior, who was playing out there alone. They did not like his aristocratic manner and rolled him in the mud. They were pommelling him in spite of his protests, when Phil heard the outcry and, getting a glimpse of the unequal contest from the library window, gave forth a shout that made the intruders take to their heels, the infuriated father after them.