“Jiminy!” gasped Jane, drawing herself back from the window.
The two young people started as if a cannon had exploded beside them. Mr. Montgomery, minus at least three shades of his rosy color, drew himself up, and breathed a deep breath. His knees were quaking; yet it was not without an air of real dignity that he prepared to brave the old lion.
“Wait here, Elise. I think I had better see your father a—alone.”
“Not at all,” said Mr. Lambert again raising his terrifying tones, “Elise, I wish you to step in here, too.”
Instinctively, Elise clung to Hyacinth’s hand, and like the babes in the wood, they slowly walked into the dining room.
Mr. Lambert was seated at his desk; and the light coming in through the window shone upon his glasses so that neither of the quailing young people could quite see his eyes. There was a ferocious frown between his bristling grey eyebrows.
“Mr. Montgomery, I heard some of the remarks you were making to my daughter. I also heard you say that you wanted to see me. I am willing to listen to anything you have to say—provided that you come to the point quickly!” He brought out the last word so sharply that poor Hyacinth gasped as if he had been struck by a high wind.
“Yes, sir,” he managed to articulate, faintly; and after this effort seemed unable to utter a sound.
“Well?” said Mr. Lambert. “Proceed.”
Hyacinth squared his shoulder.