armhole of his
waistcoat: with the other hand he tapped menacingly on the table.

As she gazed upon him, wondering what could be the matter with him,
Lucille was suddenly aware of Bill's presence. He had emerged sharply
from the bedroom and was walking briskly across the floor. He came to a
halt in front of the table.

"Father!" said Bill.

Archie looked up sharply, frowning heavily over his cigar.

"Well, my boy," he said in a strange, rasping voice. "What is it? Speak
up, my boy, speak up! Why the devil can't you speak up? This is my busy
day!"

"What on earth are you doing?" asked Lucille.

Archie waved her away with the large gesture of a man of blood and iron
interrupted while concentrating.

"Leave us, woman! We would be alone! Retire into the jolly old
background and amuse yourself for a bit. Read a book. Do acrostics.
Charge ahead, laddie."

"Father!" said Bill, again.

"Yes, my boy, yes? What is it?"

"Father!"

Archie picked up the red-covered volume that lay on the table.

"Half a mo', old son. Sorry to stop you, but I knew there was something.
I've just remembered. Your walk. All wrong!"

"All wrong?"

"All wrong! Where's the chapter on the Art. of Walking? Here we are.
Listen, dear old soul. Drink this in. 'In walking, one should strive to
acquire that swinging, easy movement from the hips. The correctly-poised
walker seems to float along, as it were.' Now, old bean, you didn't
float a dam' bit. You just galloped in like a chappie charging into
a railway restaurant for a bowl of soup when his train leaves in two
minutes. Dashed important, this walking business, you know. Get started
wrong, and where are you? Try it again.... Much better." He turned to
Lucille. "Notice him float along that time? Absolutely skimmed, what?"

Lucille had taken a seat,-and was waiting for enlightenment.

"Are you and Bill going into vaudeville?" she asked.

Archie, scrutinising-his-brother-in-law closely, had further criticism
to make.

"'The man of self-respect and self-confidence,'" he read, "'stands erect
in an easy, natural, graceful attitude. Heels not too far apart, head
erect, eyes to the front with a level gaze'--get your gaze level, old
thing!--'shoulders thrown back, arms hanging naturally at the sides when
not otherwise employed'--that means that, if he tries to hit you, it's
all right to guard--'chest expanded naturally, and abdomen'--this is
no place for you, Lucille. Leg it out of earshot--