As soon as he could find his voice after that he said, "Don't you always keep smoked mutton in an Iceland house?"
"Well, yes, if that will do, sir."
"I should like it above all things."
There was a moment's silence, and he thought his mother was looking at him again. "Then perhaps you are an Icelander?" she said.
"Yes, I'm an Icelander," he answered.
"What is your name?"
Another wild impulse to reveal himself immediately to his mother, nearly swept down his fears, for he was choking with a sense of duplicity and his conscience was fighting in contrary ways, but after a moment his prudence conquered, and with a gulp in his throat he said:
"They call me Christian Christiansson."
"Well, it's lucky you found us up, sir. We were on the point of going to bed."
"I suppose the other members of your family are gone already?"