book says it's a thing that is only done by the lower orders."

"If you're in a hurry?" demanded Mr. Bert Jobson, pausing with his
saucer half way to his mouth.

"If you're in anything," responded his father. "A gentleman would rather
go without his tea than drink it out of a saucer. That's the sort o'
thing Bill Foley would do."

Mr. Bert Jobson drained his saucer thoughtfully.

"Picking your teeth with your finger is wrong, too," said Mr. Jobson,
taking a breath. "Food should be removed in a--a--un-undemonstrative
fashion with the tip of the tongue."

"I wasn't," said Gladys.

"A knife," pursued her father--"a knife should never in any circumstances
be allowed near the mouth."

"You've made mother cut herself," said Gladys, sharply; "that's what
you've done."

"I thought it was my fork," said Mrs. Jobson. "I was so busy listening I
wasn't thinking what I was doing. Silly of me."

"We shall all do better in time," said Mr. Jobson. "But what I want to
know is, what about the gravy? You can't eat it with a fork, and it
don't say nothing about a spoon. Oh, and what about our cold tubs,
mother?"