Peter's Mother Part 25

"I do not mean the trees. Of course the house was shut in far too closely by the trees at the back and sides. We wanted more air, more light, more freedom." She drew a long breath and flung out her hands in unconscious ill.u.s.tration. "But there are many very necessary changes that--that Peter will like to see," said Lady Mary, glancing almost defiantly at the pursed-up mouths and lowered eyelids of the sisters.

Peter walked suddenly into the middle of the banqueting-hall and looked round him.

"Why, what's come to the old place? It's--it's changed somehow. What have you been doing to it?" he demanded.

"Don't you--don't you like it, Peter?" faltered Lady Mary. "The roof was not safe, you know, and had to be mended, and--and when it was all done up, the furniture and curtains looked so dirty and ugly and inappropriate. I sent them away and brought down some of the beautiful old things that belonged to your great-grandmother, and made the hall brighter and more livable."

Peter examined the new aspect of his domain with lowering brow.

"I don't like it at all," he announced, finally. "I hate changes."

The sisters breathed again. "So like his father!"

Their allegiance to Sir Timothy had been transferred to his heir.

"Your guardian approved," said Lady Mary.

She turned proudly away, but she could not keep the pain altogether out of her voice. Neither would she stoop to solicit Peter's approval before her rejoicing opponents.

"Mr. John Crewys is a very great connoisseur," said the canon. He taxed his memory for corroborative evidence, and brought out the result with honest pride. "I believe, curiously enough, that he spends most of his spare time at the British Museum."

Lady Mary's lip quivered with laughter in the midst of her very real distress and mortification.

But the argument appeared to the canon a most suitable one, and he was further encouraged by Peter's reception of it.

"If my guardian approves, I suppose it's all right," said the young man, with an effort. "My father left all that sort of thing in his hands, I understand, and he knew what he was doing. I say, where's that great vase of wax flowers that used to stand on the centre table under a gla.s.s shade?"

"Darling," said Lady Mary, "it jarred so with the whole scheme of decoration."

"I am taking care of that in my room, Peter," said Miss Crewys.

"And the stuffed birds, and the weasels, and the ferrets that I was so fond of when I was a little chap. You don't mean to say you've done away with those too?" cried Peter, wrathfully.

"They--they are in the gun-room," said Lady Mary. "It seemed such a--such--an appropriate place for them."

"I believe," said the canon, nervously, "that stuffing is no longer considered decorative. After all, _why_ should we place dead animals in our sitting-rooms?"

He looked round with the anxious smile of the would-be peacemaker.

"They were very much worm-eaten, Peter," said Lady Mary. "But if you would like them brought back--"

Perhaps the pain in her voice penetrated even Peter's perception, for he glanced hastily towards her.

"It doesn't matter," he said magnanimously. "If you and my guardian decided they were rotten, there's an end of it. Of course I'd rather have things as they used to be; but after all this time, I expect there's bound to be a few changes." He turned from the contemplation of the hall to face his relatives squarely, with the air of an autocrat who had decreed that the subject was at an end.

"By-the-by," said Peter, "where _is_ John Crewys? They told me he was stopping here."

"He will be in directly," said Lady Mary, "and Sarah Hewel ought to be here presently too. She is coming to luncheon."

"Sarah!" said Peter. "I should like to see her again. Is she still such a rum little toad? Always getting into sc.r.a.pes, and coming to you for comfort?"

"I think," said Lady Mary, and her blue eyes twinkled--"I think you may be surprised to see little Sarah. She is grown up now."

"Of course," said Peter. "She's only a year younger than I am."

Lady Mary wondered why Peter's way of saying _of course_ jarred upon her so much. He had always been brusque and abrupt; it was the family fashion. Was it because she had grown accustomed to the tactful and gentle methods of John Crewys that it seemed to have become suddenly such an intolerable fashion? Sir Timothy had quite honestly believed tactfulness to be a form of insincerity. He did not recognize it as the highest outward expression of self-control. But Lady Mary, since she had known John Crewys, knew also that it is consideration for the feelings of others which causes the wise man to order his speech carefully.

The canon shook his head when Peter stated that Miss Hewel was his junior by a twelvemonth.

"She might be ten years older," he said, in awe-struck tones. "I have always heard that women were extraordinarily adaptable, but I never realized it before. However, to be sure, she has seen a good deal more of the world than you have. More than most of us, though in such a comparatively short s.p.a.ce of time. But she is one in a thousand for quickness."

"Seen more of the world than I have?" said Peter, astonished. "Why, I've been soldiering in South Africa for over two years."

"I don't think soldiering brings much worldly wisdom in its train. I should be rather sorry to think it did," said Lady Mary, gently. "But Sarah has been with Lady Tintern all this while."

"A very worldly woman, indeed, from all I have heard," said Miss Crewys, severely.

"But a very great lady," said Lady Mary, "who knows all the famous people, not only in England, but in Europe. The daughter of a viceroy, and the wife of a man who was not only a peer, and a great landowner, but also a distinguished amba.s.sador. And she has taken Sarah everywhere, and the child is an acknowledged beauty in London and Paris. Lady Tintern is delighted with her, and declares she has taken the world by storm."

"We never thought her a beauty down here," said Peter, rather contemptuously.

"Perhaps we did not appreciate her sufficiently down here," said Lady Mary, smiling.

"Why, who is she, after all?" cried Peter.

"A very beautiful and self-possessed young woman, and Lady Tintern's niece, 'whom not to know argues yourself unknown,'" said Lady Mary, laughing outright. "John says people were actually mobbing her picture in the Academy; he could not get near it."

"I mean," said Peter, almost sulkily, "that she's only old Colonel Hewel's daughter, whom we've known all our lives."

"Perhaps one is in danger of undervaluing people one has known all one's life," said Lady Mary, lightly.

Peter muttered something to the effect that he was sorry to hear Sarah had grown up like that; but his words were lost in the tumultuous entry of Dr. Blundell, who pealed the front door bell, and rushed into the hall, almost simultaneously.

His dark face was flushed and enthusiastic. He came straight to Peter, and held out his hand.

"A thousand welcomes, Sir Peter. Lady Mary, I congratulate you. I came up in my dog-cart as fast as possible, to let you know the people are turning out _en ma.s.se_ to welcome you. They're a.s.sembling at the Crewys Arms, and going to hurry up to the house in a regular procession, band and all."

"We're proud of our young hero, you see," said the canon; and he laid his hand affectionately on Peter's shoulder.

"You will have to say a few words to them," said Lady Mary.

"Must I?" said the hero. "Let's go out on the terrace and see what's going on. We can watch them the whole way up."

He opened the door into the south drawing-rooms; and through the open windows there floated the distant strains of the village band.

"Canon, your arm," said Lady Belstone.

Lady Mary and her son had hastened out on to the terrace.