Margery felt the cloud, that had lifted for some good hours, limning heavily about her. She knew Jacob's excuse was nonsense, but she did not guess the reason for his act and, unseen, resented it.
"To bed, to bed!" she cried. "Be off, Auna, and you, Avis. Our chatter won't interest father."
Peter returned, asked after a suffering dog or two, heard that they mended and then retired with John Henry. Margery's maid was returning on foot. Barton Gill had gone to bed.
Jacob hung some of the damp coats to the fire and threw on a turf or two.
"You've enjoyed yourself?" he asked.
"Yes—we've had a merry day. I'm sorry Auna took that feather, but I couldn't well refuse to let the kind man give it to her. I didn't know you were superstitious and I'm sure Adam Winter didn't. We live and learn, don't we?"
He waited for her to speak on, but she prepared to go to bed.
"Tell me about your adventures," he said slowly.
"No adventures—just a fair and all the fun of the fair. The usual thing—all very noisy and merry and a good deal that was silly I expect; but it takes you out of yourself, and you see a lot of people happy and forgetting their troubles for a minute. That's something."
"What did you do?"