He wiped his heated brow and stared around him
shamefacedly. Finally, as though swallowing his pride with a gulp, he
drew a long breath, took a couple of determined strides forward, and
held out his hands, one to Errington and the other to Lorimer, by whom
they were warmly grasped.
"There, my lads," he said rapidly. "I'm sorry I spoke! Forgive and
forget! That is the worst of me--my blood is up in a minute, and old
though I am, I'm not old enough yet to be patient. And when I hear the
name of that sneak Dyceworthy--by the gates of Valhalla, I feel as if my
own house would not hold me! No, no; don't go yet! Nearly ten? Well, no
matter, the night is like the day here, you see--it doesn't matter when
one goes to bed. Come and sit in the porch awhile; I shall get cool out
there. Ah, Thelma, child! I see thee laughing at thy old father's
temper! Never mind, never mind; is it not for thy sake after all?"
And, holding Errington by the arm, he led the way into the fine old
porch, Lorimer following with rather a flushed face, for he, as he
passed out of the room, had managed to pick up and secrete the neglected
little bunch of daisies, before noticed as having fallen on the floor.
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