he canon, absently.

He stood with his back to the tall leather screen which guarded the
entrance to the hall, and did not hear the gentle opening of the great
door.

"I trust," said Miss Crewys, "that we are not a family prone to
display weak emotion even on the most trying occasions."

"To be sure not," said the canon, disconcerted; "still, I cannot think
of it myself without a little--a great deal--of thankfulness for his
preservation through this terrible war, now so happily ended. And to
think the boy should have earned so much distinction for himself, and
behaved so gallantly. God bless the lad! You are well aware," said the
canon, blowing his nose, "that I have always been fond of Peter."

"Thank you, canon," said Peter.

For a moment no one was sure that it was Peter, who had come so
quietly round the great screen and into the hall, though he stood
somewhat in the shadow still.

A young man, looking older than his age, and several inches taller
than Peter had been when he went away; a young man deeply tanned, and
very wiry and thin in figure; with a brown, narrow face, a dark streak
of moustache, a long nose, and a pair of grey eyes rendered unfamiliar
by an eyeglass, which was an ornament Peter had not worn before his
departure.

The old ladies sat motionless, trembling with the shock; but the canon
seized the hand which Peter held out, and, scarcely noticing that it
was his left hand, shook it almost madly in both his own.

"Peter! good heavens, Peter!" he cried, and the tears ran unheeded
down his plump, rosy cheeks. "Peter, my boy, God bless you! Welcome
home a thousand thousand times!"

"Peter!" gasped Lady Belstone. "Is it possible?"

"Why, he's grown into a man," said Miss Crewys, showing symptoms of an
inclination to become hysterical.

Peter was aghast at the commotion, and came hurriedly forward to
soothe his agitated relatives.

"Is this your boasted self-command, Georgina?" said Lady Belstone,
weeping.

"We cannot always be consistent, Isabella. It was the unexpected joy,"
sobbed Miss Crewys.

"Peter! your _arm_!" screamed Lady Belstone and she fell back almost
fainting upon the sofa.

Peter stood full in the light now, and they saw that he had lost his
right arm. The empty sleeve was pinned to his breast.

His aunt tottered towards him. "My poor boy!" she sobbed.

"Oh, that's all right," said Peter, in rather annoyed tones. "I can
use my left hand perfectly well. I hardly noti