enunciation was almost painfully precise.
The Industrialist said, “It’s all right, youngster.”
But the Astronomer said, “Even if you had been entering an empty room, son, there would be no cause for slamming a door.”
“Nonsense,” insisted the Industrialist. “The youngster has done no harm. You simply scold him for being young. You, with your views!”
He said to Slim, “Come here, lad.”
Slim advanced slowly.
“How do you like the country, eh?”
“Very much, sir, thank you.”
“My son has been showing you about the place, has he?”
“Yes, sir. Red—I mean—”
“No, no. Call him Red. I call him that myself. Now tell me, what are you two up to, eh?”
Slim looked away. “Why—just exploring, sir.”
The Industrialist turned to the Astronomer. “There you are, youthful curiosity and adventure-lust. The race has not yet lost it.”
Slim said, “Sir?”
“Yes, lad.”
The youngster took a long time in getting on with it. He said, “Red sent me in for something good to eat, but I don’t exactly know what he meant. I didn’t like to say so.”