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1
148
The Diary of a Nobody
·
George Grossmith Weedon Grossmith
80
DECEMBER
30,
Sunday.—
Lupin
spent
the
whole
day
with
the
Mutlars.
He
seemed
rather
cheerful
in
the
evening,
so
I
said:
“I’m
glad
to
see
you
so
happy,
Lupin.”
He
answered:
“Well,
Daisy
is
a
splendid
girl,
but
I
was
obliged
to
take
her
old
fool
of
a
father
down
a
peg.
What
with
his
meanness
over
his
cigars,
his
stinginess
over
his
drinks,
his
farthing
economy
in
turning
down
the
gas
if
you
only
quit
the
room
for
a
second,
writing
to
one
on
half-sheets
of
note-paper,
sticking
the
remnant
of
the
last
cake
of
soap
on
to
the
new
cake,
putting
two
bricks
on
each
side
of
the
fireplace,
and
his
general
‘outside-halfpenny-‘bus-ness,’
I
was
compelled
to
let
him
have
a
bit
of
my
mind.”
I
said:
“Lupin,
you
are
not
much
more
than
a
boy;
I
hope
you
won’t
repent
it.”
DECEMBER
31.—
The
last
day
of
the
Old
Year.
I
received
an
extraordinary
letter
from
Mr.
Mutlar,
senior.
He
writes:
“Dear
Sir,—
For
a
long
time
past
I
have
had
considerable
difficulty
deciding
the
important
question,
‘Who
is
the
master
of
my
own
house?
Myself,
or
your
son
Lupin?’
Believe
me,
I
have
no
prejudice
one
way
or
the
other;
but
I
have
been
most
reluctantly
compelled
to
give
judgment
to
the
effect
that
I
am
the
master
of
it.
Under
the
circumstances,
it
has
become
my
duty
to
forbid
your
son
to
enter
my
house
again.
I
am
sorry,
because
it
deprives
me
of
the
society
of
one
of
the
most
modest,
unassuming,
and
gentlemanly
persons
I
have
ever
had
the
honour
of
being
acquainted
with.”
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