The same thought instantly struck them all. Grandfather must know nothing about it; a very slight shock, they were all aware, would kill Grandfather, and there could not possibly be any shock to him like this amazing revolt of Katherine’s. Therefore he must know nothing. Like bathers asserting themselves after the first quiver of an icy plunge, they fought their way to the surface.
Until Grandfather was safely once more alone in his room the situation must be suspended. After all, there was nothing to be done! He, because he was feeling well that evening, was intent upon his dinner.
“What! Waiting for Katherine?” he said.
“Katherine isn’t coming down to dinner, Father,” Mrs. Trenchard said.
“What, my dear?”
“Katherine isn’t coming down to dinner.”
“Not ill, I hope.”
“No—a little tired.”
George Trenchard was the only one who did not support his part. When the old man had passed through the door, George caught his wife’s arm.
“But, I say,” he whispered, “something—”