"What a trump he is! A real good sort! I say, you know, it's really most awfully kind of him! I wonder what the Dickens put it into his head ?" But on that point none of the family could enlighten him, for only Ingred and Derry knew the secret, and Ingred was at school, while Derry, belonging to the dumb creation, expressed his opinions solely in barks.
When the household was reunited for next week-end, the clouds had cleared from Athelstane's horizon, but seemed to have settled more darkly than ever round Egbert.

There was a horrible feeling of impending storm in the home atmosphere.

It lent a constraint to conversation at meals, and put an effectual stopper on the fun which generally circulated round the fireside.

It was all the more uncomfortable because nobody voiced the cause.
"Father looks unutterables, Mother's plainly worried to death, Egbert is sulks personified, Queenie won't tell, Athelstane and Hereward either don't know or don't care what's the matter, but it makes them cross.
What is one to do with such a family ?" thought Ingred on Sunday afternoon.
It had been wet, and, though a detachment of them had ventured to church in waterproofs, they had not been able to take their usual safety valve of a walk across the moors.

Seven people in a small house seem to get in one another's way on Sunday afternoons.