He stowed the hamper in the boat, and helped Mrs. Sinclair back into her seat.
"I'm quite sorry to leave this shady nook, for it's getting hotter every minute, but I must get on to Fairbridge now. Are you ready to go?"
"Quite," she answered, and Melville proceeded to back the boat down the creek, pulling it along with the boat-hook and by the help of the overhanging branches of the trees. In the main stream he got out the sculls and paused a minute before setting to work again.
"I shouldn't be surprised if there were a storm," he remarked; "have you any cloak or mackintosh with you?"
"No," said Lavender anxiously, "and my frock's a fair weather one. Oh! don't say it's going to rain."
"I won't, if you think that will make any difference," said Melville with a smile, and he began to row again.
There was no doubt, however, that a storm was brewing, although it was possible that it might break elsewhere; low down on the horizon the sky was inky black, merging through indescribable gradations of shade into a lurid coppery glare overhead; the breathless heat was oppressive, and Melville was bathed in perspiration before they had travelled a hundred yards.
"The sky is sitting on the top of my head," Mrs. Sinclair complained. "Isn't there any inn or cottage where we can put up, and where I can wait while you are with Sir Geoffrey?"
"I'm afraid there isn't," Melville answered, "but perhaps the storm will pass us by. That often happens on the river."
"Fancy having the river so entirely to ourselves," she said presently. "I don't think a single boat has passed us since we started, and I know we haven't met any."