"Not care, I dare say. Well, to begin, they'd give me a silence, just as like as not."
"A silence. That's what we give a Tac who oversteps bounds, or a party of women who are brought in to see the animals feed. There's a universal din up to that moment, and then every man drops his knife and fork, stops his tongue, and looks. You don't know what silence means till you've heard that."
"What a very queer custom! And that is what they might do to you? But it could not last long, I suppose, because they would have to eat their breakfast."
"No, it would not last long!" said Magnus ironically. "First Rig begins: 'Hello, Kin! Most through? Lose your breakfast?' And Crane: 'Say, Kin! Come and bless what's left on our table.' And Crinkem would yell: 'Shut up, and let him alone! He's praying for strength to eat the steak.'"
The girl's colour flitted back and forth as he spoke; then her eyes lighted up.
"It does not sound pleasant," she said; "but Magnus, if I were you, I think I would try it."
"I don't doubt you would," said Magnus, thinking his own thoughts. "Sixty feet long in all weathers. But Cerise, besides all that, there isn't time. We have but just so many minutes for breakfast, anyhow; and while I had my eyes shut, somebody else might get my roll. No great gain, but still a loss."
"That would be very sad," said Cherry, with a comical smile. "But then, you would enjoy the rest so much better. Magnus," she went on seriously, "did you ever think how many faint-hearted Christians there may be in the crowd who would take courage from you to do right?"
"It is grand to face wrong things for right reasons!" said Cherry, her eyes like two opals, showing their hidden fire. "'And they departed from the Council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his name.'"
"Yes, talk to me," he said. "I want all the talking to I can get. But I can tell you, Cerise--do you mind my calling you so?"--he broke off abruptly.
"Why, no," the girl answered. "It does not sound quite natural."
"Not like old times--no, of course not. Well, would you like Chérie better? I think I should," said Mr. Kindred, watching the pink tinges with a delightful sense of having the reins in his own hands again. "It is more closely descriptive, and just as good for my French."