You can go and earn your living in
any way you please, by orchid-hunting if you like." He paused, gasping
for breath.
"Is that all, father?" asked Mr. Stephen, producing a cigar from his
pocket.
"No, it isn't, you cold-blooded young beggar. That house you occupy at
Twickenham is mine. You will be good enough to clear out of it; I wish
to take possession."
"I suppose, father, I am entitled to a week's notice like any other
tenant," said Mr. Stephen, lighting the cigar. "In fact," he added,
"if you answer no, I think I shall ask you to apply for an ejection
order. You will understand that I have arrangements to make before
taking a fresh start in life."
"Oh! curse your cheek, you--you--cucumber!" raged the infuriated
merchant prince. Then an inspiration came to him. "You think more of
an ugly flower than of your father, do you? Well, at least I'll put an
end to that," and he made a dash at the plant on the table with the
evident intention of destroying the same.
But the watching Woodden saw. With a kind of lurch he interposed his
big frame between Sir Alexander and the object of his wrath.
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