"Ah!" Mr. Desborough exclaimed. "To-night's dinner, eh? What are you going to have?"
Teddie rehearsed the menu, then began to explain matters further, as he became conscious of his uncle's extreme surprise.
"Oh, we don't fare like that every evening, simple though it is," he said in self-justification. "This is an entertainment long owed to my brother Hugh, and a couple of friends are asked to meet him."
Silence fell between them. Once the old man cleared his throat and was about to speak, but checked himself. When he did speak, he had evidently put something of moment aside.
"What shall you give them to drink?" he asked, in kindly interest.
"Whisky and soda or bottled beer," Teddie told him with prompt decision. "I did hope to give them a glass of decent claret, but that is off, of course."
Again a silence.
"Look you here, my boy." Uncle Desborough seemed bent upon having it out. Fear of rebuff had caused him to hesitate, and a strange sense of the unwonted good-fellowship of what he was about to propose made him awkward. "What do you say to asking me to your dinner? Would not that square matters?"
"We shall be delighted," Teddie made answer, very stiffly. "But, of course, we cannot let one of our guests pay for his dinner."
"An old fellow like myself won't be in the way?" Mr. Desborough asked.