"Leave grandmamma alone!" Hertha cried, half out of her senses from horror, and she covered the dear grief-stricken face protectingly with her hands.
"Now, now," he muttered stupidly, and his blood-shot eyes were fixed half absently on the little group. Slowly he seemed to become conscious of what he was doing.
"Go away," exclaimed Hertha, trembling with anger; "you are behaving like a wild beast."
He growled and grumbled to himself, then threw himself heavily on to a chair on the back of which a peignoir for Hertha had been artistically arranged.
The room had gradually emptied. Some had stealthily seized their plates, others had left their gifts in the lurch, hoping for a happier opportunity of taking possession of them.
"Come, grandmamma," Hertha said; "you will, at least, be safe in your own room."
He started up and then relapsed again into sullen brooding. Grandmamma rose with Hertha's help.
"My son! My son!" she sighed softly, folding her hands over him.
He nodded and continued growling and muttering.
The old lady left the room on Hertha's arm, and Elly, who had been hiding behind her table, trotted after them.