In this angry state I rowed back and stumped straight up to the house, no doubt with great dignity.
My mother was sitting talking to Mr. Smith and my stepfather.
"Why, Victor, how flushed you look; is there anything the matter?" asked my mother.
"Can I speak to you a minute, mother?"
"Of course, what is it?"
I blushed furiously, and blamed my own precipitation. Why had I not waited a better opportunity? I could not ask the question I wanted to ask with the others there; but I had to say something, and so blurted out:
"Oh, it does not matter now, mother."
I believe that Mr. Smith made a sign to my stepfather, because they both rose, and, after mentioning billiards, disappeared.
I glanced round hurriedly; this was better.
"Mother."