"Oh," said Edwin. "We’ve seen no gaping wounds, have we, Hilda?"
"You’ve only got to look at Bert’s chin," said Clara.
Bert shuffled under the world’s sudden gaze. Undeniably there was a small discoloured lump on his chin.
"I’ve had it out with Bert," Albert continued severely. "I don’t know who was in the wrong--it was about that penknife business, you know--but I’m quite sure that Bert was not in the right. And as he’s the older we’ve decided that he must ask George’s forgiveness."
"Yes," eagerly added Clara, tired of listening. "Albert says we can’t have quarrels going on like this in the family--they haven’t spoken friendly to each other since that night we were here--and it’s the manly thing for Bert to ask George’s forgiveness, and then they can shake hands."
"That’s what I say." Albert massively corroborated her.
"I suppose these people imagine they’re doing something rather fine."
Whatever they imagined they were doing, they had made both Edwin and Hilda sheepish. Either of them would have sacrificed a vast fortune and the lives of thousands of Sunday school officers in order to find a dignified way of ridiculing and crushing the expedition of Albert and Clara; but they could think of naught that was effective.
Hilda asked, somewhat curtly, but lamely:
"He was in your boudoir a two-three minutes ago, drawing," said Edwin.
Clara’s neck was elongated at the sound of the word "boudoir."
"Boudoir?" said she. And Edwin could in fancy hear her going down Trafalgar Road and giggling at every house-door: "Did ye know Mrs. Clayhanger has a boudoir? That’s the latest." Still he had employed the word with intention, out of deliberate bravado.
"I should suggest," said Albert, "that Bert goes to him in the breakfast-room. They’ll settle it much better by themselves." He was very pleased by this last phrase, which proved him a man of the world after all.
"So long as they don’t smash too much furniture while they’re about it," murmured Edwin.
"Now, Bert, my boy," said Albert, in the tone of a father who is also a brother.
And, as Hilda was inactive, Bert stalked forth upon his mission of manliness, smiling awkwardly and blushing. He closed the door after him, and not one of the adults dared to rise and open it.