speak!--do not interrupt me!--Bobby, I know that he was at school with
father--Algy, I know that he is forty-seven--all of you, I know that his
hair is gray, and that there are crows'-feet about his eyes--but still--
but still--"

"Do you mean to say that you are _in love_ with him?" breaks in Bobby,
impressively.

Instances of enamored humanity have been rare in Bobby's experience.
With the exception of Toothless Jack, he has never had a near and
familiar view of an authentic specimen. I therefore see him now
regarding me with a reverent interest, not unmixed with awe.

"I mean nothing so silly!" I answer, with lofty petulance. "I am a great
deal too old for any such nonsense!"

"There I go with you," says Algy, not without grandeur. "I believe that
it is the greatest humbug out, and that it rarely occurs between the
ages of sixteen and sixty."

"Father's and mother's was a love-match," says Bobby, gravely. "Did not
Aunt Williams tell us that they used always to sit hand-in-hand before
they were married?"

A shout of laughter at our parents' expense greets this piece of
information.

"_All_ married people grow to hate one another after a bit," say I,
comprehensively; "it is only a question of time."