Even if I had differed from him I should not
have said so, but I was of his opinion, and was almost as much obliged to
him for seeing things as I saw them, as he to me for doing the same kind
office by himself. Cordially as I disliked Theobald and Christina, I was
in such a hopeless minority in the opinion I had formed concerning them
that it was pleasant to find someone who agreed with me.
Then there came an awful moment for both of us.
A knock, as of a visitor and not a postman, was heard at my door.
"Goodness gracious," I exclaimed, "why didn't we sport the oak? Perhaps
it is your father. But surely he would hardly come at this time of day!
Go at once into my bedroom."
I went to the door, and, sure enough, there were both Theobald and
Christina. I could not refuse to let them in and was obliged to listen
to their version of the story, which agreed substantially with Ernest's.
Christina cried bitterly--Theobald stormed. After about ten minutes,
during which I assured them that I had not the faintest conception where
their son was, I dismissed them both. I saw they looked suspiciously
upon the manifest signs that someone was breakfasting with me, and parted
from me more or less defiantly, but I got rid of them, and poor Ernest
came out again, looking white, frightened and upset.
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