Mr. Armstrong does not return home until after office-hours on Monday. His wife, hearing him in the hall, hurries out to meet him as he is about to enter the room, and stands with her back against the door, blocking the way. She looks up into his face and begins impetuously before she has time to lose courage.
"Where have you been? Why did you not return home on Saturday? What do you mean by—"
"Did you not receive my note?" he asks in surprise. "I wrote explaining to you the cause of my absence. Was not my note delivered?"
She feels her courage oozing out, and makes a desperate rally.
"What if I refused to accept your explanation—to believe in your excuses?"
He shrugs his shoulders faintly.
"I have no remedy to suggest; I think the reason given was a credible and acceptable one. Business detained me until it was too late to return, and the next day I rode over to Crokestown to see my cousin, Ellen Murphy, and she made me remain to dinner. I can not improve that statement of affairs, I fear, so will not try. Your sisters are in the drawing-room. Will you not let me enter, my dear?"
She draws back, and follows in, mute and cowed.
"Well," he says pleasantly, "let me hear how my precious household got on in my absence. The boys came over of course? That's right. I am sure you enjoyed yourselves all together famously; yesterday was such a lovely day, too!"
"I didn't," says Addie shortly, "for I had a villainous headache all day."