"I should think you would be very unhappy with that shawl," Lord Warburton resumed while his companion filled the old man's cup again.
"Oh no, he must have the shawl!" cried the gentleman in the velvet coat.
"Don't put such ideas as that into his head." "It belongs to my wife," said the old man simply.
"Oh, if it's for sentimental reasons--" And Lord Warburton made a gesture of apology.
"I suppose I must give it to her when she comes," the old man went on.
"You'll please to do nothing of the kind.

You'll keep it to cover your poor old legs." "Well, you mustn't abuse my legs," said the old man.

"I guess they are as good as yours." "Oh, you're perfectly free to abuse mine," his son replied, giving him his tea.
"Well, we're two lame ducks; I don't think there's much difference." "I'm much obliged to you for calling me a duck.

How's your tea ?" "Well, it's rather hot." "That's intended to be a merit." "Ah, there's a great deal of merit," murmured the old man, kindly.

"He's a very good nurse, Lord Warburton." "Isn't he a bit clumsy ?" asked his lordship.
"Oh no, he's not clumsy--considering that he's an invalid himself.