Tristram
stared.
"You seem puzzled, my son."
"It is my turn again. Let me remind you that two days ago you
marvelled at my appetite."
"But this has to last us for a whole day, and perhaps longer."
"Are we not, then, to proceed farther to-day?"
"I doubt if we can."
"Decidedly this journey gets slower and slower."
The waitress came back with the additional provisions and set them on
the table. As soon as she was gone Captain Salt locked the door.
"Why is that?"
"Merely that I don't wish to be interrupted."
They ate their breakfast in silence. Tristram, as soon as it was
over, rose, and, strolling across the room, was about to gaze out
upon the street, when his father begged him to come away from the
window.
"Why?"
"My son, you should obey your father without questioning," the
Captain answered somewhat tartly.
"Forgive me."
Tristram had been taught to obey, but considering the wide views for
which this country was notorious, he began to reflect with
astonishment on the small amount he was able to see. Also he
remarked, as the morning wore on, that his father was perpetually at
one window or another, moving from parlour to bedroom and back, and
scanning now the street, now the stable-yard, yet always with a
certain amount of caution.
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