“Expedition into the forest, sir! Um—ah! Well.—Yes, I’m afraid I was thinking about it too. I am so sorry, Des Saix. But welcome all the same, if you will forgive me.”
“Forgive you, yes!” said the Count warmly. “That and a great deal more. But I am very glad that you have so strangely led up to the subject upon which I wish to talk to you.”
“What, my forgetfulness?”
“No, no! That expedition into the forest.”
“No, no; don’t talk about it. I have thought about it too much, and it worries me.”
“Well, I want to put a stop to its worrying you. Morny here has been telling me how anxious you both are to go.”
“Morny! Why, what did he know about it? He couldn’t tell. Here, you, Rodney, have you been letting your tongue run, sir, exposing all my weaknesses?”
“No, sir, that he has not,” replied the French lad eagerly; “but I have gathered from your remarks, and words that Rodd has more than once let drop, how anxious you both are to have a run up country and see something of what the wilds are like.”
“Oh, fudge! Stuff! Nonsense!” cried the doctor petulantly. “That’s quite out of the question.”
“Why?” said the Count.