“I hope that I shan’t quarrel with my father-in-law,” reflected Mary to herself, after one of the best of these exhibitions; “he’s got an uncommonly long memory, and likes to come even. However, I never shall, because he’s afraid of me and knows that I see through him.” Mary was right. A very sincere respect for her martial powers when roused ensured perfect peace between her and the Colonel. With his son, however, it was otherwise. Even in this age of the Triumph of the Offspring parents do exist who take advantage of their sons’ strict observance of the Fifth Commandment. It is easy to turn a man into a moral bolster and sit upon him if you know that an exaggerated sense of filial duty will prevent him from stuffing himself with pins. So it came about that Morris was sometimes sat upon, especially when the Colonel was suffering from a bad evening at the tables; well out of sight and hearing of Mary, be it understood, who on such occasions was apt to develop a quite formidable temper. It is over this question of the tables that one of these domestic differences arose which in its results brought about the return of the Monks to Monksland. Upon a certain afternoon the Colonel asked his son to accompany him to Monte Carlo. Morris refused, rather curtly, perhaps. “Very well,” replied the Colonel in his grandest manner. “I am sure I do not wish for an unwilling companion, and doubtless your attention is claimed by affairs more important than the according of your company to a father.” “No,” replied Morris, with his accustomed truthfulness; “I am going out sea-fishing, that is all.” “Quite so. Allow me then to wish good luck to your fishing. Does Mary accompany you?” “No, I think not; she says the boat makes her sick, and she can’t bear eels.” “So much the better, as I can ask for the pleasure of her society this afternoon.” “Yes, you can ask,” said Morris, suddenly turning angry. “Do you imply, Morris, that the request will be refused?” “Certainly, father; if I have anything to do with it.” “And might I inquire why?” “Because I won’t have Mary taken to that place to mix with the people who frequent it.” “I see. This is exclusiveness with a vengeance. Perhaps you consider that those unholy doors should be shut to me also.” “I have no right to express an opinion as to where my father should or should not go; but if you ask me, I think that, under all the circumstances, you would do best to keep away.” “The circumstances! What circumstances?” “Those of our poverty, which leaves us no money to risk in gambling.” Then the Colonel lost all control of his temper, as sometimes happened to him, and became exceedingly violent and unpleasant. What he said does not matter; let it suffice that the remarks were of a character which even headstrong men are accustomed to reserve for the benefit of their women-folk and other intimate relations.