“I hope she will, thank you, ma’am,” replied Riddell, who somehow fancied his hostess had said, or had been going to say, she hoped his mother would soon recover.
“Er, I beg your pardon?” said Mrs Patrick, leaning slightly forward and inclining her head a little on one side.
“I mean, I beg your pardon,” said Riddell, suddenly perceiving his mistake and losing his head at the same time, “I mean, quite so, thank you.”
“You mean,” interposed Miss Stringer at this point, in a voice a note deeper than her sister’s, “that your mother’s indisposition is of a serious character?”
“Oh no, not at all, I’m sure,” ejaculated the hapless Riddell.
“I am glad to hear you say so, very,” said Miss Stringer.
“Very,” said Mrs Patrick.
At this point Riddell had serious thoughts of bolting altogether, and might have done so had not the servant just then created a diversion by bringing in the kettle.
“Sit down, Riddell,” said the doctor, “and make yourself at home. What are the prospects for the regatta this year? Is the schoolhouse boat to win?”
“I’m sorry I can’t say,” replied Riddell. “I believe Parrett’s is the favourite.”