The child was always father to the man

“And we,” said the Major, “have no choice, except between this or nothing.” “Really! I am afraid,” said Sir William, “I am afraid I am too old — or too young — which shall I say?— to understand.” “Too young, sir,” said Arthur sweetly. “The child was always father to the man, I believe.” “I confess the Major makes me feel childish,” said the old man. “The choice between this or nothing is a puzzler to me. Can you help me out, Mr. Sisson? What do you make of this this-or-nothing business? I can understand neck-or-nothing —-” “I prefer the NOTHING part of it to the THIS part of it,” said Aaron, grinning. “Colonel,” said the old man, “throw a little light on this nothingness.” “No, Sir William,” said the Colonel. “I am all right as I am.” “As a matter of fact, so are we all, perfectly A-one,” said Arthur. Aaron broke into a laugh. “That’s the top and bottom of it,” he laughed, flushed with wine, and handsome. We’re all as right as ninepence. Only it’s rather nice to talk.” “There!” said Sir William. “We’re all as right as ninepence! We’re all as right ninepence. So there well leave it, before the Major has time to say he is twopence short.” Laughing his strange old soundless laugh, Sir William rose and made a little bow. “Come up and join the ladies in a minute or two,” he said. Arthur opened the door for him and he left the room. The four men were silent for a moment — then the Colonel whipped up the decanter and filled his glass. Then he stood up and clinked glasses with Aaron, like a real old sport. “Luck to you,” he said. “Thanks,” said Aaron. “You’re going in the morning?” said Arthur. “Yes,” said Aaron. “What train?” said Arthur. “Eight-forty.”