“No; both of you,” said Hugh.
“We know nothing yet,” said Dick, “except that there is something wrong. So just relieve our minds of the worst anxiety first. Is she still at Davos?”
Hugh sat quite still a moment, and he had no longer the slightest desire to laugh. He had imagined only that these two idiots had thought that he and Edith had had some quarrel. But slowly the meaning of that question dawned on him. He turned very red, then very white.
“Just explain your question a little more,” he said quickly. “Where else should she be? Why should she be anywhere else?”
Then, luckily for everybody, his sense of humour came to his aid. It was the most glorious thing that ever happened. And his voice trembled over the next question.
“Answer me quickly,” he said, “or I shall burst. Did your question imply that you thought she had run away, left me?”
Canon Alington got up.
“We had better be going,” he said to Mrs. Owen; “we only came to try to help.”
“Oh, wait a minute,” said Hugh. “There is plenty of time. That occurred to you then, I take it; that was your worst anxiety. I will remove that at once. That being disposed of, I suppose you thought we had quarrelled. Edith and I! Quarrelled! Oh, Dick, never try to make another joke as long as you live! You will never, never beat that. Your reputation as a humourist is secure. Don’t spoil it. Oh, Christmas!”
Then he recollected some sort of manners, and turned to Mrs. Owen.