The meal went on in silence, till Dennis, over-anxious to give no cause of offence, made a terrific crash with his pudding spoon.
“If you can’t eat your lunch decently, you had better leave the room,” said Colin.
Dennis took this to be a general objurgation, not a command.
“Sorry, Father,” he said again, and went on with his pudding.
“Did you hear what I said, Dennis?” asked Colin.
Dennis got up at once, but stood by his father’s chair a moment, scarlet in the face at this public ignominy, and very nervous, but determined to speak.
“I’ve never thanked you yet, Father,” he said, “for what you did for me. I can’t do more than thank you, for there’s nothing else I can do for you. But if there was——”
Colin wheeled round in his chair.