if Simon Legree had exhibited it in his relations with Uncle Tom. And this in spite of the fact that Archie, as early as the third morning of his stay, had gone to him and in the most frank and manly way had withdrawn his criticism of the Hotel Cosmopolis, giving it as his considered opinion that the Hotel Cosmopolis on closer inspection appeared to be a good egg, one of the best and brightest, and a bit of all right.
"A credit to you, old thing," said Archie cordially.
"Don't call me old thing!" growled Mr. Brewster.
"Right-o, old companion!" said Archie amiably.
Archie, a true philosopher, bore this hostility with fortitude, but it worried Lucille.
"I do wish father understood you better," was her wistful comment when Archie had related the conversation.
"Well, you know," said Archie, "I'm open for being understood any time he cares to take a stab at it."
"You must try and make him fond of you."
"But how? I smile winsomely at him and what not, but he doesn't respond."
"Well, we shall have to think of something. I want him to realise what an angel you are. You are an angel, you know."
"No, really?"
"Of course you are."
"It's a rummy thing," said Archie, pursuing a train of thought which was constantly with him, "the more I see of you, the more I wonder how you can have a father like—I mean to say, what I mean to say is, I wish I had known your mother; she must have been frightfully attractive."
