Howard was gushing, ‘Dad, I think you’ll agree with me . . .’

‘Rarely!’

‘ . . . that if I’m going to rent and build swell houses, I’ve got to prove my standing and show my good taste . . .’

‘Your what?’

‘ . . . by living in a nice house myself, and not in this dump.’

‘What d’you mean, “dump”? Wish you could’ve seen the four-room shack that your mother and I had when we were first married. Only stoves, and no bathroom, just outdoor service. I tell you, in those days a real man was glad to shovel coal and lug the doggone ashes, instead of just moving a lever with one finger. We had oilcloth on the table. And,’ Fred added, without great originality, ‘guess we were just about as happy as the young folks today, that expect to start in where their folks left off!’

‘Um — yes. But I want you to look at this as an investment. I know where I can get a dandy, up-to-date modern house, six and a half rooms, for a hundred and ten a month, and then I can take prospects home for dinner. I want you to understand, Dad, I’ve turned over an entirely new leaf. Golly, Ben Bogey is twice as hard on me as you or Paul Popple ever were. I don’t even take a single drink — oh, maybe just a cocktail before dinner . . .’

‘Or maybe two?’

‘Well, of course, if there’s a dividend left in the shaker, there’s no sense wasting it . . .’

‘Son, if you expect me to put up the hundred and ten a month for your rent, I’m simply not going to do it, do you hear me, won’t do it, simply won’t do it, do you understand, and that’s FLAT!’

Privately, he hoped it was flat.

All through supper Howard seemed to have the hives. He kept winking at Annabel, clucking at her, and once he reached out and tenderly slapped her hand. There seemed to be nothing in the conversation to stir up such fervour. It consisted in Sara’s detailed account of wishing a bedroom in powder blue and crocus yellow upon Mrs. Kamerkink, Howard’s speculation as to whether he could ‘interest’ Dr. Kamerkink in a lot at Capitola Lodge, and Annabel’s dutiful plea to Hazel for the name of her hairdresser.

Yet Howard was certainly exhilarated, and after the ice cream he pounded the table and gave tongue:

‘I’ve got a very important announcement to make . . . Now, Bell, don’t blush!’

‘I don’t intend to!’ said Annabel, blushing.

‘Mother and Dad, along about next March, you are going to have your first lovely little grandchild — and you, your first nephew, sister!’

‘Oh, Howard — ANNABEL!’ said Hazel.

‘Heh? Oh. You mean you’re going to have a baby? Fine,’ said Fred.

‘Yessir!’ Howard roared. ‘And if it’s a son, and I’ve got a good strong hunch it will be, I’m going to name him . . .’