“J—­a—­c—­k D—­e P—­e—­y—­s—­t—­e—­r!” again a letter at a time.  “J—­a—­c—­k D—­e P—­e—­y—­s—­t—­e—­r!  I’m astounded at you!”

“I thought you might be—­a little,” he admitted.

“I think you might have some consideration for me!  And my position!”

“I suppose it is rather selfish of me to want to earn my own living.  But you don’t know what dreary hard work being a gentleman becomes.”

“I won’t have it!” cried Mrs. De Peyster wrathfully.  “This is what comes of your attending that Intercollegiate Socialist thing in college!  I protested to the president against the college harboring such unsettling influences, and urged him to put it out.”

“Well, dear old prexy did his best to comply.”

“It’s that Socialist thing!  As for what you propose, I simply will not have it!”

“No?  I could have started in up at Columbia, and kept it from you.  But I wanted to be all on the level—­”

“I won’t have it!”

“You really mean that you are not going to add a few thousand more to my hundred thousands’ worth of education?”

“I certainly shall not!”

“Then,” said Jack regretfully, “I suppose after all I’ve got to start in at the pick-and-shovel end.”

“No, you will not!  I have reared you to be a gentleman!  And you are going to be a gentleman!”

“Well, if that’s the way you feel about it,” he sighed, “we’ll drop the matter—­temporarily.”

“We’ll drop it permanently!” said Mrs. De Peyster decisively.  “Besides, all this talk is utterly footless.  You seem to forget that you are sailing with me to Europe to-morrow.”

“That brings me to the second point.  I was hoping,” Jack said mildly, “that you would consent to take my regrets to Europe.  Don’t you think Europe might be willing to overlook my negligence—­just this once?”

“Jack—­I can’t endure your facetiousness!”

“I’m not facetious, mother dear.  I’m most confoundedly and consummately serious.  I really want you to let me off on this Europe business.  Won’t you—­there’s a dear?”

“No!”

“No?”

“Why, your passage is paid for, and my plans—­You know Ethel Quintard and her mother are sailing on the same boat.  No, most certainly I shall not let you off!”

“Well, if that’s the way you feel about it,” he sighed again, “perhaps we’d better drop this matter also—­temporarily.”

“This matter we’ll also drop permanently,” his mother said, again with her calm, incontrovertible emphasis.

“Well, that brings us to the third point.”  He drew a copy of the “Record” from his pocket and pointed to a paragraph.  “Mother, this is the second time my engagement to Ethel Quintard has been in print.  I must say that I don’t think it’s nice of Ethel and Mrs. Quintard to let those rumors stand.  I would deny them myself, only it seems rather a raw thing for a fellow to do.  Mother, you must deny them.”