Silence.
“H’rrmp,” said Mr. Preemby.
Christina Alberta searched her mind for some conversational opening that would give her father a reasonable opportunity to make an acceptable reply, but she could think of nothing that was neither too disconcerting nor too dangerous. She met his eye and he had the expression of one who holds out against a strain.
Fish gave place to lamb.
“I thought that road from Sittingbourne was just awful,” said the motoring gentleman.
“It was just awful,” responded his wife.
Christina Alberta saw her father’s face working. He was going to say something. “H’rrmp. To-morrow, if it is fine, I think we will go for a walk in the morning.”
The knives and forks were hushed. Everybody was listening.
“I’d love a walk to-morrow, Daddy,” said Christina Alberta. “I should think there were some jolly walks about this place.”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Preemby. “Very probably. The Guide Book is very reassuring. H’rrmp.”