"Joan, make your father some fresh toast; be quick, dear, and Milly, take the kidneys to Ellen and ask her to grill them a little more. Now, James, here's some nice hot coffee."
"Sit down!" thundered the colonel.
Joan and Milly sat down hastily. "Keep quiet; you get on my nerves, darting about all round the table. Upon my word, Mary, the children haven't touched their breakfast!"
"But, James——"
"That's enough I say; eat your bacon, Milly. Joan, stop shuffling your feet."
Milly, her face blotched with nervousness, attempted to spear the cold and stiffening bacon; it jumped off her fork on to the cloth as though possessed of a malicious life energy. Colonel Ogden's eyes bulged with irritation, and he thumped the table.
"Upon my word, Mary, the children have the table manners of Hottentots."
Now by all the laws of the Medes and Persians, Mrs. Ogden, on this Day of Days, should have remained calm and disdainful. But to-day had begun badly. There had been that little cloud which had grown and grown until it became the household books; it was over her now, enveloping her. She could not see through it, she could not collect her forces. "We Routledges!" It didn't ring true, it was like a blast blown on a cracked trumpet. She prayed fervently for self-control, but she knew that she prayed in vain. Her throat ached, she was going fast, slipping through her own fingers with surprising rapidity.
Colonel Ogden began again: "Well, upon my——"
"Don't, don't!" shrieked Mrs. Ogden hysterically. "Don't say it again, James. I can't bear it!"