Ethel came to the rescue with praise of the etching, but this availed little; Gertrude spoke not a word, and Lance, though making some kind of reply, clearly did not know what he was saying, and presently took leave, in spite of Ethel's entreaties that he would stay to the early dinner, and to see her father. He made answer in a bewildered voice about not meaning—and getting home; shook hands, and was gone.
'That was not gracious, Daisy,' said Ethel.
'I'm sure I didn't want it,' said the spoilt child.
'You need not have hurt him.'
No answer but scarlet colouring.
About half-past three he was at the Priory, just as the whole party and Charles Audley besides were standing on the lawn, with rugs and cloaks betokening boating intentions. His first impulse was to shrink away like some wounded animal, but he had been spied, and was eagerly hailed—'O Lance! just in time! Here's the four-oar coming out! Clem and Angel want to go up the river to Tranquillity Bridge, and we are taking them.'
Lance would have done anything rather than betray his wound, so he took his place in the boat, and tried to shake himself into the present; but Felix thought he looked tired, and would not let him take an oar against the stream. Then it occurred to Cherry to ask whether he had had anything to eat. No, he believed not; but he was resolute that he wanted nothing, not even a draught of cider, which Angela mischievously recommended as they passed the 'Hook and Line,' a little tea-garden public-house, a favourite Sunday resort of Ewmouth idlers, and a great scandal and grievance to the Vicar, but secured, like other abuses, by a lease. A boat, belonging no doubt to some holiday-makers, was moored at the steps; but as it was the day of a great Maying at East Ewmouth, most observers of 'tide time' were likely to be there absorbed.
Angela amused herself with wild proposals to Charlie Audley to repair thither in disguise together, talking nonsense that greatly annoyed Clement, and was far from pleasing Felix or Cherry; but she was in so reckless and defiant a mood, that they could only hope that she might work it off at the oar. Her arms were strong as well as long, and rowing was a pastime she loved, having been franked as an A B S ever since she had taken lessons at a swimming-bath. The day was delicious, with clouds chasing one another so as to make fleeting lights and shadows on Penbeacon and the hills beyond; the clear brown water sparkling in ripples or lying in deep pools, shadowed by the woods that came down to the bank in the early green of spring, flowering may, mountain ash, and wreaths of blushing eglantine overhanging the margin, or where the space was open, revealing meadows all one golden sheet of buttercups, while the fringe of the stream was the feathery bogbean and the golden broom, mixed with tall sword leaves of the flag and the reed.
Shaded at length by a picturesque high-backed one-arched bridge, the boat waited while Clement and Angela went on their cottage visiting.
Charlie did not, as Cherry expected, invite Lance to promenade the bank with a cigar, but applied himself to helping Stella in collecting a grand nosegay of every sort of flower and grass within reach. The others remained in the boat: Lance leaning over the gunwale dreamily watching the ripples, apparently half asleep, lulled by the monotonously sweet humming of Theodore, and the songs of the birds in the woods; Cherry was sketching, and Felix rested musingly.