well-balanced man of good judgment and unerring taste--say, like
one Sanford Embury."

"You certainly are not afflicted with false pride, Sanford," and
Aunt Abby bit into her crisp toast with a decided snap.

"Why, thank you," and Embury smiled as he purposely
misinterpreted her words. "I quite agree, Aunt, that my pride is
by no means false. It is a just and righteous pride in my own
merits, both natural and acquired."

He winked at Eunice across the table, and she smiled back
appreciatively. Aunt Abby gave him what was meant to be a
scathing glance, but which turned to a nod of admiration.

"That's so, Sanford," she admitted. "Al Hendricks is a nice man,
but he falls down on some things. Hasn't he been a good
president?"

"Until lately, Aunt Abby. Now, he's all mixed up with a crowd of
intractables--sporty chaps, who want a lot of innovations that
the more conservative element won't stand for."

"Why, they want prize-fights and a movie theatre-right in the
club!" informed Eunice. "And it means too much expense, besides
being a horrid, low-down--"

"There, there, Tiger," and Sanford shook his head at her. "Let
us say those things are unpalatable to a lot of us old fogies--"