"I am very glad to see you all again——" here he checks himself, and grows a degree redder and more embarrassed. It occurs to him that, after all, he saw them yesterday and the day before, and that it is on the cards he will see them again to-morrow. Therefore why express exuberant joy at the fact that he can see them at this present moment?
He glances, in a despairing fashion, at Clarissa; but she is plainly delighted at his discomfiture, and refuses to give him any assistance, unless a small approving nod can be accounted such.
Feeling himself, therefore, unsupported, he perforce, returns to the charge.
"It is a great pleasure to me to know that no changes have taken place during the past year, I hope"—(long pause)—"I hope we shall always have the same story to tell."
This is fearfully absurd, and he knows it, and blushes again.
"Well, at least," he goes on, "I hope we shall not part from each other without good cause,—such as a wedding, for instance."
Here he looks at the under-housemaid, who looks at the under-gardener, who looks at his boots, and betrays a wild desire to get into them forthwith.
"There is no occasion for me, I think, to make you a speech. I——the fact is, I——couldn't make you a speech, so you must excuse me. I wish you all a happy Christmas! I'm sure you all wish me the same. Eh?——and——"
Here he is interrupted by a low murmur from the servants, who plainly feel it their duty to let him know, at this juncture, that they do hope his Christmas will be a successful one.
"Well——eh?——thank you——you know," says Mr. Peyton, at his wits' end as to what he shall say next.