He seemed in great spirits, and started to hum as he helped himself to salt, while his father rolled his eyes up leaving only the whites visible, to signify his despair at the incurable cheerfulness of his son.
“Come, come now, and how is father this morning?” Glan continued, pushing his father’s chair closer to the table and tucking a serviette under his fathers chin, for all the world as if he were a baby in a high chair.
“He’s been at that old plant-pot again,” said Aunt Janet.
“Bad wicked man,” smiled Glan, wagging his spoon at his Father, who received all Glan’s bantering remarks with the same stolid expression, and without the flicker of a smile. Jack marvelled at Glan’s perseverance with his Father, when his attempts to cheer him up were always without success. He began to doubt whether the old man could smile, and tried to imagine him doing so—but failed.
“After breakfast,” said Glan, “if he is very good and promises not to pick the currants out of the buns, Father shall mind the shop while the little lady and her brother, and Aunt Janet, and yours faithfully, put on their best bonnets with the bead trimmings, and their elastic-sided boots, and brown cotton gloves”—he gave an elaborate wink at Aunt Janet—“and sally forth to learn what plans are afoot, and to find out what portion of the country we are each to search.”
“Will Jack and I be allowed to go together?” asked Molly, anxiously.
“Certainly, if you wish,” said Glan.
“Of course we’d rather, wouldn’t we, Moll?” said Jack.