A pause.
"Do you mind telling me—will you have anything at all left?"
"You'll know soon enough," said the Colonel sharply. He sat down, rested his face on his two hands, and remained thus until tea was ready.
"The fish will get cold," Dorothea said, as he showed no signs of moving.
Colonel Tracy drew a heavy sigh, came to the table, mumbled the three syllables which were his usual apology for a grace, and sat down with a groan. Then he turned over the fried sole, and inspected it disgustedly.
"Not fresh," he growled.
"You couldn't go yourself to-day,—but Mrs. Stirring seemed quite sure."
"My dear, Mrs. Stirring knows nothing about the matter. She takes whatever is given her. It's uneatable."
Nevertheless, he gave some to Dorothea and helped himself, not without a scowl or two.
"Bread isn't properly baked. Been getting worse and worse the last month," said the Colonel.