Caroline said: ‘I told you not to talk.’
But children must talk, especially if there are three of them; and Martin being now silent, Benjie took up the running.
Laying his head on one side, and stroking it with his spoon, ‘Mummy,’ he said, ‘if I was to catch fire, wouldn’t I get burned up? Wouldn’t I, Mummy?’
Then Mr. Trimblerigg could stand it no longer; he took up his plate, and left the room. As soon as he had closed the door he heard Benjie give a howl, and knew that Caroline, applying useless remedies, had slapped him.
Presently, having sent the children to bed, she came in to comfort him. ‘They’ll get used to it presently,’ she assured him, ‘if it doesn’t go off. But I wish you’d see somebody.’ This time she avoided the word ‘doctor,’ because it irritated him.
‘I suppose they talked of me as soon as I’d gone?’ he said, ignoring the suggestion.
‘A little, naturally,’ she replied.
‘What did they say?’
‘D’you think I’d better tell you,’ queried Caroline, wishful to spare him.
‘Yes, I may as well hear the worst.’