"How wonderfully that bobbed hair suits Miss Waddington."
"I don't know if you noticed a pie-faced fellow with an eye-glass and a tooth-brush moustache at dinner? That was Lord Hunstanton. He keeps telling me things about etiquette."
"Very kind of him," hazarded George.
Mr. Waddington eyed him in a manner that convinced him that he had said the wrong thing.
"What do you mean, kind of him? It's officious and impertinent. He is a pest," said Mr. Waddington. "They wouldn't stand for him in Arizona. They would put hydrophobia skunks in his bed. What does a man need with etiquette? As long as a man is fearless and upstanding and can shoot straight and look the world in the eye, what does it matter if he uses the wrong fork?"
"Exactly."
"Or wears the wrong sort of hat?"
"I particularly ad
