Charles shook his head again, and laughed.
But the Duke didn’t laugh. He stared at him a minute, and then said, ‘Fool.’
‘I got a nusband,’ said Sally indignantly.
‘He can’t hear,’ said Charles. ‘He’s very deaf.’
‘What does she say?’ asked the Duke. ‘Speak clearly, my dear—no, don’t shout,’ he added; though Sally, far from going to shout, wasn’t even opening her mouth. Poor old gentleman, she thought, gazing at him in silent compassion; fancy him still being anybody’s father.
The Duke took her hand in a dry, cold grip.
‘Like shakin’ ’ands with a tombstone,’ thought Sally. And she was filled with so great a pity for anything so old that she didn’t feel shy of him at all, and in the coaxing voice of one who is addressing a baby she said, ‘’Ave yer tea while it’s ’ot—do, now.’
Charles looked at her astonished. Nearly everybody was afraid of his father. She reminded him of the weaned child in Isaiah, who put its hand fearlessly on the cockatrice’s den.
‘What does she say?’ asked the Duke, gazing at her with delight.
‘This is Mrs. Luke, Father—a friend of Laura’s,’ shouted Charles, ‘and I’ve brought her——’