before I ask 'em if they'll have sherry or hock. I can't ring a bell
or toot a horn to show 'em I'm coming. It's my place to bend over and
whisper in their ear, and they've no right to leap about in their
seats and make me spill good wine. (You'll see the spot close by
where you're sitting, Ellen. Jogged my wrist, he did!) I'd like to
know why people in the spear of life which these people are in can't
behave themselves rational, same as we do. When we were walking out
and I took you to have tea with my mother, it was one of the
pleasantest meals I ever ate. Talk about 'armony! It was a
love-feast!"

"Your ma and I took to each other right from the start, Horace,"
said Mrs Parker softly--"That's the difference."

"Well, any woman with any sense would take to Miss Mariner. If I
told you how near I came to spilling the sauce-boat accidentally
over that old fossil's head, you'd be surprised, Ellen. She just sat
there brooding like an old eagle. If you ask my opinion, Miss
Mariner's a long sight too good for her precious son!"

"Oh, but Horace! Sir Derek's a baronet!"

"What of it? Kind 'earts are more than coronets and simple faith than
Norman blood, aren't they?"

"You're talking Socialism, Horace."

"No, I'm not. I'm talking sense. I don't know who Miss Mariner's
parents may have been--I never enquired--but anyone can see she's a
lady born and bred. But do you suppose the path of true love is going