An elderly, thin-faced, bald-headed, amiably vacant man entered.
He regarded the Honorable Freddie with a certain disfavor.

"Are you only just getting up, Frederick?"

"Hello, gov'nor. Good morning. I shan't be two ticks now."

"You should have been out and about two hours ago. The day is
glorious."

"Shan't be more than a minute, gov'nor, now. Just got to have a
tub and then chuck on a few clothes."

He disappeared into the bathroom. His father, taking a chair,
placed the tips of his fingers together and in this attitude
remained motionless, a figure of disapproval and suppressed
annoyance.

Like many fathers in his rank of life, the Earl of Emsworth had
suffered much through that problem which, with the exception of
Mr. Lloyd-George, is practically the only fly in the British
aristocratic amber--the problem of what to do with the younger
sons.

It is useless to try to gloss over the fact--in the aristocratic
families of Great Britain the younger son is not required.

Apart, however, from the fact that he was a younger son, and, as
such, a nuisance in any case, the honorable Freddie had always
annoyed his father in a variety of ways. The Earl of Emsworth was