“Breakfast is getting cold, papa,” said Charlotte. “Come right in.”
“We have got a bully breakfast. No end to eat,” said Eddy, as he danced at his father's heels.
Carroll need not have answered his wife's question then, for her attention was diverted from it, but he did. “I was very busy, dear,” he said, rather gravely. “You were no less in mind. In fact, I never had you all any more in mind.”
“You must have had a hard night's journey, papa,” Charlotte said, as they all sat down at the table, and Marie brought in the eggs.
“Yes, I had a very hard night,” Carroll replied, still with a curious gravity.
Charlotte regarded him anxiously. “Why, papa,” she said, “aren't you well?”
“Very well indeed, honey,” Carroll replied, and he smiled then.
The others looked at him. “Why, papa, you do look sick!” cried Ina.
“Arthur, dear, you look as if you had been ill a month, and I never noticed it till now, I was so glad to see you,” cried Mrs. Carroll. Suddenly she jumped from her seat and passed behind her husband's chair and drew his head to her shoulder. “Arthur, dearest, are you ill?”
“No, I am not, sweetheart.”