You said yesterday distinctly, and so far I
could judge sincerely, that you wished Simpkins was dead. Now you
pretend that it's a shock to you to hear that he's going to be killed.
That's what I call vacillation, and you ought to be ashamed of it."
Major Kent sighed heavily.
"There's no use my talking," he said, "but you'll get yourself into
trouble some day with these jokes of yours."
"Major," said Meldon, "I've absolutely no patience with you. You're
back again at that joke theory of yours, after I've spent half the
evening explaining to you that this isn't a joking matter at all. I
must decline to discuss the matter any further. We'll talk of
something else. I was speaking to O'Donoghue to-day about the proper
way of feeding the child when it has whoping-cough. He says it ought
to be given as much as it wants to eat of any ordinary kind of food.
I'm inclined to agree with him. Now what is your opinion?"
"I suppose you're thinking of your own child?"
"Yes, I am. And don't forget that she's not merely my child. She's
also your god-child."
"Well, I gave her a silver mug. Didn't I?"
"You did. A capital mug, large and heavy.
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