“I don't know that I care for anything much. I'm a little off my feed. No soup,” he said, looking up at the waiter bending over him; and then he gave the order. “I think you may bring me half a dozen Blue Points, if they're good,” he called after him.
“Didn't Bar Harbour agree with you—or Campobello?” asked Mr. Mavering, taking the opening offered him.
“No, not very well,” said Dan; and he said no more about it, leaving his father to make his own inferences as to the kind or degree of the disagreement.
“Well, have you made up your mind?” asked the father, resting his elbows on either side of his plate, and putting his hands together softly, while he looked across them with a cheery kindness at his boy.
“Yes, I have,” said Dan slowly.
“Well?”
“I don't believe I care to go into the law.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that's all right, then. I wished you to choose freely, and I suppose you've done so.”