"Where is Sheila?" he asked after shaking hands.
"In the garden. She has six poor little children from London for a fortnight! And with no one but ourselves to look after them. We have had a terrible afternoon, Mr. Fortescue."
Miss Gregson was flushed and tired.
"You look dead beat! An influx of six children to amuse and control is no laughing matter. I suppose they are difficult to manage?"
"They were almost dumb with wonder the first hour, but unhappily this soon wore off. They do not know the meaning of obedience. When I said it was time to go to bed they rebelled. They wanted to see the horses again, they said, and nothing would quiet them but to take them to the stables. How we are to survive a fortnight of this kind of thing I can't think."
"What are they doing now?"
"Sheila is telling them a story in the summer house, hoping to quiet them."
Peter rose.
"I'll go and find these rebels," he said smiling. "I wish my dear little cousin would ask my advice before she undertakes this kind of thing. But," he added with a laugh, "she is not fond of advice from me or anyone, else! I don't suppose she asked yours, did she?"
"Oh dear, no! That is the last thing she would do. She is a girl of such noble impulses, it is a pity that she acts on them without counting the cost."