‘You might have known by my manner that I hated them to tease me about him,’ says Susan, very little appeased by his apology.
‘I’ll know better next time,’ says Crosby humbly. ‘But when I heard he had been following you about like a baa-lamb, and that you had taken that anchor from him, and that he used to—’
He is checked by a flash from Susan’s eyes. There is a pause. Then suddenly she presses her face into Bonnie’s flaxen hair, and bursts into smothered laughter.
‘Well, I don’t care! He did once, all round the gooseberry bushes; and I threw a spade at him, and it hit him on the head, and I thought I had killed him. I’—with another glance at Crosby, now from between Bonnie’s curls—‘was dreadfully frightened then. But now I almost wish I had. Any way, he never tried to—he never, I mean’—confusedly—‘hunted me again.’
‘I begin to feel sincerely sorry for James,’ says Crosby. ‘He seems to me to have led but a sorry life before he started for the Soudan. When he comes home next year, what will you do? He may be quite’—he looks at her and smiles—‘a mighty hunter by that time.’
Susan laughs.
‘Like you,’ says she.
Crosby looks at her. It is a ready answer, and with another might convey a certain meaning, but with Susan never.
‘Ah, I’m afraid of gooseberry bushes,’ says he. ‘They have thorns in them. James, you see, surpasses me in valour. Talking of valour reminds me of those you have left behind you, and who have sent me here as their plenipotentiary, to extract from you a promise of peace. They are all very sorry they annoyed you so much about the redoubtable James; and they desired me to say so. I was afraid to come by myself, so I brought Bonnie with me. Bonnie, tell her to come back with me now, and say: “Peace is restored with honour.” Say it for her, Bonnie.’
‘“Peace is restored with honour,”’ repeats Bonnie sweetly.