That brings up unpleasant memories. Like any sensible woman I never would admit that I had reached the high point in life as long as I had one son still in knickerbockers, but with one son at Yale, with a young lady daughter ready to be presented to society, and with Charlie going into long trousers I felt that the day was approaching when the unhappy phrase “getting on in years” might be applied to me.

The very rapid lengthening of Charlie’s legs had been a subject of much discussion at Beverly during the summer and the necessity for bestowing upon him the dignity of man-style garments had been manifest to everybody sometime before I would consent to recognise it.

One day the telephone rang and Helen answered it. A voice at the other end of the line said:

“I’d like to speak to Master Charlie Taft, please.”