A Tea Table Conversation 
     
    
   
   
    
     he hasn’t a word to throw to a dog. 
     
     ’Twouldn’t be any wonder, living with 
     
     the Gordons. They’re all as queer as 
     
     Dick’s hat-band.” 
     
    

    
     “ Father, you shouldn’t talk so about 
     
     your neighbours,” said his wife rebuk- 
     
     ingly. 
     
    

    
     “ Well now, Mother, you know they 
     
     are, if you’d only speak up honest. But 
     
     you’re like old Aunt Nancy Scott, you 
     
     never say anything uncharitable except 
     
     in the way of business. You know the 
     
     Gordons ain’t like other people and never 
     
     were and never will be. They’re about 
     
     the only queer folks we have in Lindsay, 
     
     Master, except old Peter Cook, who keeps 
     
     twenty-five cats. Lord, Master, think of 
     
     it! What chanct would a poor mouse 
     
     have? None of the rest of us are queer, 
     
     leastwise, we hain’t found it out if we 
     
     are. But, then, we’re mighty uninterest- 
     
     ing, I’m bound to admit that.” 
     
    

    
     “ Where do the Gordons live? ” asked 
     
     Eric, who had grown used to holding fast 
     
    
   
   
    
     49