“If I had held my tongue, you would never have seen the subject of my question,” remarked Lammle, darkening.

“Now, Lammle,” said Fascination Fledgeby, calmly feeling for his whisker, “it won’t do. I won’t be led on into a discussion. I can’t manage a discussion. But I can manage to hold my tongue.”

“Can?” Mr. Lammle fell back upon propitiation. “I should think you could! Why, when these fellows of our acquaintance drink and you drink with them, the more talkative they get, the more silent you get. The more they let out, the more you keep in.”

“I don’t object, Lammle,” returned Fledgeby, with an internal chuckle, “to being understood, though I object to being questioned. That certainly is the way I do it.”