“Father,” said Hawkesbury, standing still at the door, “I want to speak to you a moment, please.”
“Yes, presently; but come in now, Edward, we are waiting to begin supper. Now, what an odd coincidence to come across you in this way!”
“I want to speak to you, father,” again said Hawkesbury.
The father looked vexed as he turned towards his son.
Smith rose at the same moment and said, holding out his hand to Mr Hawkesbury, “I think, if you will excuse us, we had better go, sir.”
“What, before supper! why, how is this?”
“I think your son would rather not have us here,” said Jack, solemnly.
The father looked in amazement, first at us, then at his son, who once more asked to speak to his father.
The good man, in evident bewilderment, begged us to excuse him for a moment. But Jack, taking my arm once more, said, before our host could leave the room, “Good-night, sir. Thank you very much for your kindness.”
And before I well knew where I was, we were standing out in the street.