Sam Vickers came to the horse's head, and Maud followed her brother down. Jake did not offer to assist her. He was wearing neither coat nor waistcoat, only a white canvas shirt with rolled up sleeves, unbuttoned at the neck and displaying a good deal of brawny chest. His clay pipe was between his teeth, and the pungent scent of his tobacco seemed even more nauseating than usual.
"No, we weren't caught," Bunny made answer. "I was at 'The Anchor,' and Maud took refuge with that old Wright woman who came here in the winter."
"What? Old Mother Wright?" Jake turned to his wife with a smile of approval. "Been having tea with her, have you? I'm real pleased to hear it. You couldn't be in better company."
Maud stiffened a little. Somehow his approval nettled her. "I took the first shelter within reach," she said coldly.
Bunny stared at her as though astonished at something in her tone. Sharply Jake turned on him.
"You trot in, my son, and do your floor-drill!" he said. "You've got just two hours before supper."
Bunny coloured and flung away. "Oh, damn!" he said.
He was on the step with Maud immediately behind him when Jake's voice arrested him. "Bunny!"
It was a perfectly quiet voice, but it was the voice of authority. Bunny stopped short. "Well?"
"You will do an extra half-hour for that after supper," Jake said.