, now I come to think of it."

"Of course everything at Barracombe is ugly and old-fashioned," said
Peter, gloomily.

"Except your mother," said Sarah.

"Sarah! I can't stand any more of this rot!" said Peter, starting from
his couch of heather. "Will you talk sense, or let me?"

Sarah shot a keen glance of inquiry at his moody face.

"Well," she said, in resigned tones, "I did hope to finish my lunch in
peace. I saw there was something the matter when you came striding up
the hill without a word, but I thought it was only that you found the
basket too heavy. Of course, if I had known it was only to be lunch
for one, I would not have put in so many things; and certainly not a
whole bottle of papa's best claret. In fact, if I had known I was to
picnic practically alone, I would not have crossed the river at all."

Then she saw that Peter was in earnest, and with a sigh of regret,
Sarah returned the dish of jam-puffs to the basket.

"I couldn't talk sense, or even listen to it, with those heavenly
puffs under my very nose," she said. "Now, what is it?"

"I hate telling you--I hate talking of it," said Peter, and a dark
flush rose to his frowning eyebrows. He threw himself once more at
Sarah's feet, and turned his face away from her, and towards the blue
streak of distant sea. "John Crewys wants to marry--my mother," he
said in choking tones.

"Is that all?" said Sarah. "I've seen that for ages. Aren't you glad?"

"Glad!" said Peter.

"I thought," Sarah said innocently, "that _you_ wanted to marry _me_?"

"Sarah!"

"Well!" said Sarah. She looked rather oddly at Peter's recumbent
figure. Then she pushed the loosened waves of her red hair from her
forehead with a determined gesture. "Well," she said defiantly, "isn't
that one obstacle to our marriage removed? Your aunts will go to the
Dower House, and your mother will leave Barracombe, and you'll have
the place all to yourself. And you dare to tell me you're sorry?"

"Yes," said Peter, sitting up and facing her, "I dare."

"I'm glad of that," said Sarah. Her deep voice softened. "I should
have thought less of you if you hadn't dared."

Suddenly she rose from her mossy throne, shook the crumbs off her
skirt, and looked down upon Peter with blue eyes sparkling beneath her
long lashes, and the fresh red colour deepening and spreading in her
cheeks, until even the tips of her delicate ears and her creamy throat
turned pink.

"_Well_," said Sarah, "go and sto