f French. One never knows where to have him. What's
gone wrong to-night?"

"I been thinking. It isn't any particular thing. I ate too much of that
fishy stuff at first, like salt frog spawn, and was a bit confused by
olives; and--well, I didn't know which wine was which. Had to say THAT
each time. It puts your talk all wrong. And she wasn't in evening dress,
not like the others. We can't go on in that style, George--not a proper
ad."

"I'm not sure you were right," I said, "in having a fly."

"We got to do it all better," said my uncle, "we got to do it in Style.
Smart business, smart men. She tries to pass it off as humorous"--my
aunt pulled a grimace--"it isn't humorous! See! We're on the up-grade
now, fair and square. We're going to be big. We aren't going to be
laughed at as Poovenoos, see!"

"Nobody laughed at you," said my aunt. "Old Bladder!"

"Nobody isn't going to laugh at me," said my uncle, glancing at his
contours and suddenly sitting up.

My aunt raised her eyebrows slightly, swung her foot, and said nothing.

"We aren't keeping pace with our own progress, George. We got to. We're
bumping against new people, and they set up to be gentlefolks--etiquette
dinners and all the rest of it. They give themselves airs and expect
us to be fish-out-of-water. We aren't going to be. They think we've no
Style. Well, we give them Style for our advertisements, and we're going
to give 'em Style all through.... You needn't be born to it to dance
well on the wires of the Bond Street tradesmen. See?"

I handed him the cigar-box.

"Runcorn hadn't cigars like these," he said, truncating one lovingly.
"We beat him at cigars. We'll beat him all round."

My aunt and I regarded him, full of apprehensions.

"I got idees," he said darkly to the cigar, deepening our dread.

He pocketed his cigar-cutter and spoke again.

"We got to learn all the rotten little game first. See, F'rinstance, we
got to get samples of all the blessed wines there are--and learn 'em up.
Stern, Smoor, Burgundy, all of 'em! She took Stern to-night--and when
she tasted it first--you pulled a face, Susan, you did. I saw you. It
surprised you. You bunched your nose. We got to get used to wine and not
do that. We got to get used to wearing evening dress--YOU, Susan, too."

"Always have had a tendency to stick out of my clothes," said my aunt.
"However--Who cares?" She shrugged her shoulders.

I had never seen my uncle so immensely serious.

"Got t