“Er—Bob?”
“Yes?”
“D-don't quarrel with your father—don't quarrel with your father.”
“I shan't be the one to quarrel, Mr. Bass.”
“Bob—hain't you pretty young—pretty young?”
“Yes,” said Bob, rather unexpectedly, “I am.” Then he added, “I know my own mind.”
“P-pretty young. Don't want to get married yet awhile—do you?”
“Yes, I do,” said Bob, “but I suppose I shan't be able to.”
“Er—wait awhile, Bob. Go back to Harvard. W-wouldn't write that letter if I was you.”
“But I will. I'll not have him think I'm ashamed of what I've done. I'm proud of it, Mr. Bass.”