The Girl on the Boat - Penn State University

<strong>The</strong> unfortunate Bream, whose sense of the humorous
was simple and childlike, was not proof against the
picture thus conjured up.
“C’k!” giggled Bream helplessly. “C’k, c’k, c’k!”
Mr. Bennett turned on him. “Oh, it strikes you as
funny, does it? Well, let me tell you that if you think
you can laugh at me with—with—er—with one hand and—
and—marry my daughter with the other, you’re wrong!
You can consider your engagement at an end.”
“Oh, I say!” ejaculated Bream, abruptly sobered.
“Mortimer!” bawled Mr. Bennett, once more arresting
the other as he was about to mount the stairs. “Do
you or do you not intend to destroy that dog?”
“I do not.”
“I insist on your doing so. He is a menace.”
“He is nothing of the kind. On your own showing he
didn’t even bite you once. And every dog is allowed
one bite by law. <strong>The</strong> case of Wilberforce v. Bayliss covers
that point thoroughly.”
“I don’t care about the case of Wilberforce and
Bayliss ….”
<strong>The</strong> <strong>Girl</strong> on the Boat
112
“You will find that you have to. It is a legal precedent.”
<strong>The</strong>re is something about a legal precedent which
gives pause to the angriest man. Mr. Bennett felt, as
every layman feels when arguing with a lawyer, as if
he were in the coils of a python.
“Say, Mr. Bennett ….” began Bream at his elbow.
“Get out!” snarled Mr. Bennett.
“Yes, but, say …!”
<strong>The</strong> green baize door at the end of the hall opened,
and Webster appeared.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Webster, “but luncheon
will be served within the next few minutes. Possibly
you may wish to make some change of costume.”
“Bring me my lunch on a tray in my room,” said Mr.
Bennett. “I am going to bed.”
“Very good, sir.”
“But, say, Mr. Bennett ….” resumed Bream.
“Grrh!” replied his ex-prospective-father-in-law, and
bounded up the stairs like a portion of the sunset which
had become detached from the main body.