“What! are you going to leave me in the lurch, Bob? steal another march on me, now I’ve thrown myself like an innocent on your good faith? That’s not like a _bon camarade_. I thought we were to stick to each other for life or death.”
“I never bargained--you were to come here and frighten my mother.”
“No, no,” she cried; “no, no,” with her hand on his arm patting it softly, endeavouring to lead him away.
“Your mother’s not frightened, old boy. She’s full of pluck, and we’re the best of friends. It’s you that are frightened. You think I’ve got hold of you again. So I have, and you’re not going to give me the slip so soon. Sit down and don’t be uncivil. I never yet got the good of a dinner by myself.”
Mrs Ogilvy held her son’s arm with her hand. She felt the thrill in him turning towards his old comrade, though he did not move. Perhaps the pressure of her hand was too strong on his arm. A woman does not know exactly how far to go. An added hair’s-breadth is sometimes too much.
“I don’t want to be uncivil,” said Robbie, after a moment’s hesitation. “After all, I think I’ll try to eat a morsel, mother; I’m in my own place. And you asked him in, I suppose; he’s in a manner your guest----”