“I think I have plenty of opportunities for doing so, since no lack of them come to see you — all of them the same sort, and probably all with the same story.”

I could see that Mamma’s opinion differed from his, but that she did not mean to quarrel about it.

“Please hand me the cakes,” she said to him, “Are they good to-day or not?”

“Yes, I AM angry,” he went on as he took the cakes and put them where Mamma could not reach them, “very angry at seeing supposedly reasonable and educated people let themselves be deceived,” and he struck the table with his fork.

“I asked you to hand me the cakes,” she repeated with outstretched hand.