Lunch was half over when Slim dashed into the dining room. For a moment,
he stood abashed, and then he said in what was almost hysteria, "I've
got to speak to Red. I've got to say something."
Red looked up in fright, but the Astronomer said, "I don't think, son,
you're being very polite. You've kept lunch waiting."
"I'm sorry, Father."
"Oh, don't rate the lad," said the Industrialist's wife. "He can speak
to Red if he wants to, and there was no damage done to the lunch."
"I've got to speak to Red alone," Slim insisted.
"Now that's enough," said the Astronomer with a kind of gentleness that
was obviously manufactured for the benefit of strangers and which had
beneath it an easily-recognized edge. "Take your seat."
Slim did so, but he ate only when someone looked directly upon him. Even
then he was not very successful.
Red caught his eyes. He made soundless words, "Did the animals get
loose?"