Mr. Brewster apologised gruffly; then, recognising his victim, seemed to regret having done so.

“Oh, it’s you!  Why can’t you look where you’re going?” he demanded.  He had suffered much from his son-in-law.

“Frightfully sorry,” said Archie, amiably.  “Never thought you were going to fox-trot backwards all over the fairway.”

“You mustn’t bully Archie,” said Lucille, severely, attaching herself to her father’s back hair and giving it a punitive tug, “because he’s an angel, and I love him, and you must learn to love him, too.”

“Give you lessons at a reasonable rate,” murmured Archie.

Mr. Brewster regarded his young relative with a lowering eye.

“What’s the matter, father darling?” asked Lucille.  “You seem upset”

“I am upset!” Mr. Brewster snorted.  “Some people have got a nerve!” He glowered forbiddingly at an inoffensive young man in a light overcoat who had just entered, and the young man, though his conscience was quite clear and Mr. Brewster an entire stranger to him, stopped dead, blushed, and went out again—­to dine elsewhere.  “Some people have got the nerve of an army mule!”

“Why, what’s happened?”

“Those darned McCalls have registered here!”

“No!”

“Bit beyond me, this,” said Archie, insinuating himself into the conversation.  “Deep waters and what not!  Who are the McCalls?”

“Some people father dislikes,” said Lucille.  “And they’ve chosen his hotel to stop at.  But, father dear, you mustn’t mind.  It’s really a compliment.  They’ve come because they know it’s the best hotel in New York.”

“Absolutely!” said Archie.  “Good accommodation for man and beast!  All the comforts of home!  Look on the bright side, old bean.  No good getting the wind up.  Cherrio, old companion!”

“Don’t call me old companion!”

“Eh, what?  Oh, right-o!”

Lucille steered her husband out of the danger zone, and they entered the lift.

“Poor father!” she said, as they went to their suite, “it’s a shame.  They must have done it to annoy him.  This man McCall has a place next to some property father bought in Westchester, and he’s bringing a law-suit against father about a bit of land which he claims belongs to him.  He might have had the tact to go to another hotel.  But, after all, I don’t suppose it was the poor little fellow’s fault.  He does whatever his wife tells him to.”

“We all do that,” said Archie the married man.

Lucille eyed him fondly.

“Isn’t it a shame, precious, that all husbands haven’t nice wives like me?”

“When I think of you, by Jove,” said Archie, fervently, “I want to babble, absolutely babble!”

“Oh, I was telling you about the McCalls.  Mr. McCall is one of those little, meek men, and his wife’s one of those big, bullying women.  It was she who started all the trouble with father.  Father and Mr. McCall were very fond of each other till she made him begin the suit.  I feel sure she made him come to this hotel just to annoy father.  Still, they’ve probably taken the most expensive suite in the place, which is something.”