“I don’t think a perfect lady would be cruel enough to remind a fellow of things about his appearance he can’t help.”
“What do you know about perfect ladies? Where have you met any perfect ladies? Who are you, that you presume to sit there and question my knowledge of etiquette and what’s right and polite?”
Nathan gave a tired laugh. He drew a long breath,—that sigh of infinite patience when called upon to hold his temper and indulge irascible, inconsistent, spoiled womanhood.
“It’s true I haven’t had many social advantages, Bernie,” he conceded. “But that’s never been because I didn’t hanker for them——”
“There you go! Hanker! That’s a nice word to use before a lady. Hanker! I can see old man Fodder using it, while he spits foully on the floor and wipes his dirty whiskers with the back of his hand. Hanker! Nathan, you’ll leave me a nervous wreck!”
“What should I say?”
“Hunger is bad enough. Because you ‘never desired them’ would be better and more refined.”
“Well, then, it’s never been because I’ve never desired them. But what can a fellow do when his father——”
“That’s right! Blame your father! Blame your mother, blame your sister, blame your town, blame every one and everything but yourself! In a moment you’ll be blaming me! Do you remember the day after the Sunday-school picnic when your father flogged you for going off alone with me in the woods? Do you remember what I told you to do?”
“Yes!”