He was sweet, smiling, and a thought abashed.
His father, on the other hand, evinced signs of terrible emotion.
His face was mottled, and he was shaking.
Wrapped in his dressing-gown, he stood before the fire, trying pitifully to preserve his dignity, and moving uneasily from leg to leg like a chained elephant.
"Did she hurt you?" he asked, seeking to steady his voice.
Ern shook his head.
"She laid about me middlin tidy," he admitted. "But she didn't not to say hurt me. She don't know how—a woman don't. Too much flusteration along of it."
Edward Caspar collapsed into a chair.
"What happened?" he asked.
Ern recounted the story truthfully, the white glimmer in his face coming and going between pants as he told.