He'd only turn up next time in a
tail-coat and a black bow!" said Clarence gloomily. "The poor old
governor's one of the people who never learn----!"

Clarence's own type was that for which the latest term is "knut." He was
accepted both by his family, his intimates, and himself as an infallible
guide on things in general. When consulted as to matters on which he
happened to be entirely ignorant, and these were not a few--he had
formed the habit of preserving a pregnant silence, as of one who could
say a good deal on the subject if he were at liberty to speak. And this
in itself denoted a certain degree of intelligence.

In appearance he was well built, though only of average height. He had
small green eyes like his mother's; his light sandy hair had a natural
ripple, and his pale face expressed nothing beyond an assured
consciousness of his own superiority. And yet he was not without a
certain sense of humour in matters which did not immediately concern
himself, though, owing to particular circumstances, it was just then
distinctly in abeyance.

"What time do you get back from the City to-morrow afternoon, my boy?"
his father asked.

"Not going up at all, Pater," said Clarence. "Told them I shouldn't." He
was thinking that after dinner would be quite time enough to break the
news that, on receiving a severe wigging for general slackness, he had
lost his temper, and offered to resign his post--an offer that had been
accepted with disconcerting alacrity.

"Ah, Sidney," said Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson, "_Clarence_ knows how to
assert himself, you see!"

"I merely asked," Mr. Stimpson explained, "because I'm taking a Saturday
off myself, and I thought we could have a round or two of golf
together, eh, my boy?"

"I don't mind going round with you before lunch," said Clarence.
"Engaged for the afternoon; but, if you'll take _my_ advice, Governor,
you'd better practise a bit longer with the Pro before you attempt to
_play_. No good trying to run till you can walk, don't you know, what?"
(He had learnt to terminate his sentences with "what" as a kind of smart
shibboleth.) "Hullo, Mater!" he broke off suddenly, as he noticed the
pendant on her ample bosom, "where did you get that thing? Out of a
cracker?"

"Certainly not, Clarence; I am not in the habit of wearing cheap
jewellery. And this cost a considerable sum, though I daresay it is
worth what I paid for it."

"Did you go much of a mucker for it, Mater?"

"If I