a very big voice, and Father was not going to be beaten by a poor Indian in talking or anything else—so he spoke up too, like a man, and I heard him say it was a very good business, and only wanted a little capital—and he said it as if it was an imposition he had learned, and he hated having to say it. The Uncle said, "Pooh, pooh!" to that, and then he said he was afraid that what that same business wanted was not capital but management. Then I heard my Father say, "It is not a pleasant subject: I am sorry I introduced it. Suppose we change it, sir. Let me fill your glass." Then the poor Indian said something about vintage—and that a poor, broken-down man like he was couldn't be too careful. And then Father said, "Well, whisky then," and afterwards they talked about Native Races and Imperial something or other and it got very dull.
So then Oswald remembered that you must not hear what people do not intend you to hear—even if you are not listening; and he said, "We ought not to stay here any longer. Perhaps they would not like us to hear——"
Alice said, "Oh, do you think it could possibly matter?" and went and shut the study door softly but quite tight. So it was
