"No, sir! I've only been here a few minutes. I guess one of the
fellows was in here before me. They're always swiping your
coffin-nails. You ought to do something about it, pop. You ought
to assert yourself."

A sense of helplessness came upon Mr. Pett. For the thousandth
time he felt himself baffled by this calm, goggle-eyed boy who
treated him with such supercilious coolness.

"You ought to be out in the open air this lovely morning," he
said feebly.

"All right. Let's go for a walk. I will if you will."

"I--I have other things to do," said Mr. Pett, recoiling from the
prospect.

"Well, this fresh-air stuff is overrated anyway. Where's the
sense of having a home if you don't stop in it?"

"When I was your age, I would have been out on a morning like
this--er--bowling my hoop."

"And look at you now!"

"What do you mean?"

"Martyr to lumbago."