'
'He was a frightful swell, you know. Keeper of the field, and played
against Harrow the same year. I suppose it did go just a little to his
head.'
They are back in their old seats, and Mr. Don leans forward in gleeful
anticipation. Probably Dick is leaning forward in the same way, and this
old father is merely copying him.
'What did you nickname him, Dick?'
'It was his fags that did it!'
'I should like to know it. I say, do tell me, Dick.'
'He is pretty touchy about it now, you know.'
'I won't tell any one. Come on, Dick.'
'His fags called him K.C.M.G.'
'Meaning, meaning, Dick?'
'Meaning "Kindly Call Me God!"'
Mr. Don flings back his head; so we know what Dick is doing. They are
a hilarious pair, perhaps too noisy, for suddenly Mr. Don looks at the
door.
'I think I heard some one, Dick!'
'Perhaps it's mother!'
'She may,' nervously, 'have heard the row.'
Dick's eyes must be twinkling. 'I say, father, you'll catch it!'
'I can't believe, Dick,' gazing wistfully into the chair, 'that she
won't see you.'
It is a sadder voice than his own for the moment that answers, 'Only one
may see me.
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