“No, I thought not,” said Max confusedly; “but I made myself so wet, and my other suits were in the small portmanteau, and I’ve lost the key.”
That dinner was hot, but very cold, and Max felt exceedingly glad when it was over. His host tried to be polite, and asked questions about the salmon-catching, but Max spoke in a hesitating way, and as if he thought he was being laughed at, and it was with a feeling of intense relief that he ceased to hear his host’s voice, and escaped from the stony gaze of the butler, who, under an aspect of the most profound respect, seemed to glare at the visitor with a virulent look of hatred.
“They don’t seem to like me at all down here,” thought Max, as they rose from the table.
“I wonder what’s the matter,” thought Kenneth. “I never saw father seem so severe before.”
Just then, looking very stern and out of temper, The Mackhai left the room, and Kenneth, after a moment’s hesitation, went after him; but changed his mind directly, and returned to Max.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “Father does not seem to be well.”
“I am sorry. I’m afraid he was put out because I kept you waiting.”
“Oh, never mind that. I say, we can’t go out with you like that, and it’s such a jolly night. I don’t know, though, if you put on an ulster.”
“I think I would rather not go out any more tonight,” said Max, hesitating.
“All right. Then we’ll go and have a game at billiards. Come along.”