"Ah, Shelton!" he said, "so you keep my boy company, and you, Paxhorn
and Standon. Gentlemen, you are welcome--though there's no need to
remind you of that, I know. Adrien," turning to his son, "you have a
fine day, did you drive or ride?"
"We motored down, sir," answered the young man, in his soft, melodious
voice.
His father frowned slightly. He heartily detested all modern
innovations, and would never hold that motors--or, indeed, any increased
facilities for travelling--were improvements. "They breed discontent,
sir," he would declaim vigorously. "In my young days people were content
to stay in the place in which they had been born, and do their duty.
Now, forsooth, they must see this country and that, and visit a dozen
places in the year, where their grandparents visited one. Anything for
an excuse to fritter away their hard-earned savings!"
On this occasion, however, he made no comment, but turned to Mortimer
Shelton.
"You'll find the roads here better suited for horses than for oil-cans,"
he said grimly. "We are primitive, as you know."
Shelton laughed; but he knew his host's ideas on this subject, and was
apt to respect them.
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