Gilbert started and hid his face.
‘Did you think I did not know, and was not grieved?’
‘Well,’ he cried, peevishly, ‘I’m sure I have the most ill-natured pair of sisters in the world.’
‘Then you meant to deceive us again, Gilbert.’
He had relapsed into the old habit—as usual, a burst of tears and a declaration that no one was ever so badly off, and he did not know what to do.
‘You do know perfectly well what to do, Gilbert. There is nothing for it but to tell me the whole meaning of this terrible affair, and I will see whether I can help you.’
It was always the same round, a few words would always bring the confession, and that pitiful kind of helpless repentance, which had only too often given her hope.
Gilbert assured her that he had fully purposed following his sisters, but that on the way he had unluckily fallen in with Archie Tritton and a friend, who had driven in to hear a man from London singing comic songs at the King’s Head, and they had persuaded him to come in. He had been uneasy and tried to get away, but the dread of being laughed at about his grandmother’s tea had prevailed, and he had been supping on oysters and porter, and trying to believe himself a fast man, till Archie, who had assured him that he was himself going home in ‘no time,’ had found it expedient to set off, and it had been agreed that he should put a bold face on it, and profess that he had never intended to do more than come and fetch his sisters home.
That the porter had anything to do with his extraordinary manner to his grandmother and aunt, was so shocking a notion, and the very hint made him cry so bitterly, and protest so earnestly that he had only had one pint, which he did not like, and only drank because he was afraid of being teased, that Albinia was ready to believe that he had been so elevated by excitement as to forget himself, and continue the style of the company he had left. It was bad enough, and she felt almost overpowered by the contemplation of the lamentable weakness of the poor boy, of the consequences, and of what was incumbent on her.
She leant back and considered a little while, then sighed heavily, and said, ‘Gilbert, two things must be done. You must make an apology to your grandmother and aunt, and you must confess the whole to your father.’