Part 53 (1/2)
”'Tes a warm evenin',” ventured Paul, rubbing a forefinger round the inside of his collar.
”Uncommon,” responded Peter, addressing his brother.
Whereupon, as if by preconcerted signal, they faced about and made for the two most distant chairs, on the edges of which they took an uneasy rest. Peter had brought his hat into the room, and now, after gazing at it reproachfully for some moments, began to stow it away beneath him, doing violence to its brim with the air of one who does not count the cost. He was relieved by Caleb, who bore it off with the pleasant remark--
”Now, then, remember what the old leddy said to make her guests aisy, 'I'm at home, an' I wish you all were.'”
”Silence, Caleb!” said his master. ”I--I think, as dinner is ready, we may as well be seated at once. Will you take the head of the table?” he asked, turning to Tamsin.
She blushed faintly and moved to her place. The Twins leapt up, performed a forced march, and took the table in flank from opposite quarters. Mr. Fogo looked around.
”If one of you would say Grace--”
”Tamsin says it at home. I taught her mysel',” said Peter.
”Now, then, little maid, 'For what we'm about--'”
She spoke the simple Grace and the company sat down--with the exception of Paul.
Now, Paul's position at table faced the fireplace, and as he raised his head after Grace a large text in red and blue upon the mantelshelf caught his eye, and held him spell-bound.
”'Paice on Earth an' Goodwill to-ward Men!'” he read. ”Excuse me, sir, but nothin' more appropriate to the occashun can I imagine.
Et does 'ee credit--ef I may say so.”
He dropped into his seat, and taking off his gloves laid them beside his gla.s.ses. Peter, more ceremonious, retained his throughout the meal.
”I am afraid,” explained their host, ”that the credit belongs to Caleb, who insisted upon placing the text there; and as he had obtained it with considerable trouble from the Vicar (it was used, I believe, to decorate St. Symphorian's last Christmas), I had not the heart to deny him. But for what are we waiting?”
He was answered by the appearance of Caleb, who marched up to Tamsin with a woeful face, and announced in a loud whisper that ”Suthin' was up wi' the soup.”
”I think,” said she, rising, ”if you will let me help--”
”Sutt'nly,” a.s.sented Peter in a loud tone. ”To be sure--that es, beggin' your pard'n, sir,” he added apologetically.
”It is very good of you,” said Mr. Fogo.
”I should like to help,” she explained, and followed Caleb to the kitchen.
Somehow, with her absence, an oppressive silence fell on the three men. Peter coughed at intervals, and once even began a sentence, but stopped halfway. Mr. Fogo did not heed him, but had fallen to drumming softly with his spoon upon the table. A full five minutes pa.s.sed thus, and then he started to his feet.
”Must you really be going?”
”Eh?”
”It is early yet; but I suppose you have some distance to go?”
”What?”
”Let me, at least, help you on with your coats.”