"And when you grow up and understand things, you'll wish your father had been a banker, too!" "I don't think so," said Tinker; and he smiled at her very pleasantly.
"I'm quite satisfied with my father as he is.

I'd really rather that he was a gentleman." "A banker is a gentleman!" cried Lady Beauleigh.
"Yes, yes, of course," said Tinker, humouring her again.

"He's--he's a commercial gentleman." Lady Beauleigh could find no words.

Never in the course of her domineering life had she been raised to such an exaltation of whole-souled exasperation.

She could only glare at the suave disposer of her long-cherished, long-asserted pretensions; and she glared with a fury which made Elsie, who had edged little by little to the extreme edge of the seat, rise softly and take up a safer position, standing three yards away.
Tinker took advantage of Lady Beauleigh's helpless speechlessness to say thoughtfully, "But about your being my grandmother?
If you're not my father's mother or my mother's mother, you can't really be my grandmother.