“Percy, be silent, sir! Louisa, my dear, this is Mr Jeffreys, whose life your son saved.”
Mrs Scarfe put up her glasses and inclined her head languidly in response to Jeffreys’ stiff bow.
An awkward silence ensued—so awkward that Percy began to whistle. Mrs Rimbolt having made a wrong start, had not the tact to mend matters.
“Mrs Scarfe would be interested to hear, Mr Jeffreys,” said she, after a minute or two, “your impressions of the accident.”
“The only impression I had,” said Jeffreys solemnly—and he too was worked up, and the master of his nervousness—“was that the water was very cold.”
Percy greeted this with a boisterous laugh, which his mother instantly rebuked.
“Surely, Mr Jeffreys,” said she severely, “this is hardly an occasion for a joke.”
“It was no joke,” replied he with dismal emphasis.
Again Percy enjoyed the sport.
“I should rather think it wasn’t by the looks of you when you were fished out!” said he; “you were as blue as salmon!”