“Oh, if you won’t stay to lunch we shall insist,” said Irene.
“We should really consider it quite unkind,” said Mrs. Dixon.
So he was obliged to masticate another sandwich, and that seemed to add the last touch to his desolation. For though it is a dignified and even heroic thing to be dogged through misfortune by dragons, there is only plain annoyance in being dogged by ham-sandwiches.
But the climax was reached when Andy, long after luncheon time, arrived home and awaited tea in his study, where the maid appeared bearing the tray, while Mrs. Jebb fluttered after with a plate in her hand.
“I thought,” said she, signing to her underling to depart, “that you would be glad of a few sandwiches after your drive. We had nothing but ham in the——”
She stopped short with her mouth open, for Andy had seized the plate from her and flung the sandwiches upon the fire.
“Bread and butter,” he said thickly.
It was atrocious. It was everything that can possibly be said against such an action. But it did Andy good.
The only drawback was that he had to spend quite an hour, later in the evening, in talking to Mrs. Jebb about Mr. Jebb and the glories of the past.
When they parted, Mrs. Jebb, having forgiven him, eye-cornered him from the doorway and said, very softly—