Mr. Pennefather took his place at his wife’s side. He held her hand in his.
“Nothing on earth,” he said, “can separate us now.”
“Very well,” said Priscilla. “You’re rather ungrateful, both of you, considering all we’re doing for you, and I don’t think you’re exactly polite to Miss Rutherford, however——”
“Don’t mind about me,” said Miss Rutherford. “I feel snubbed, of course, but I wasn’t really keen on having him for a husband, even temporarily.”
Mr. Pennefather looked at her with shocked surprise. A deep flush spread slowly over his face. His eyes blazed with righteous indignation.
“Woman——” he began.
“If you don’t mind,” said Priscilla, “I think we’ll call you Barnabas. It’s rather long, of course, and solemn. The natural thing would be to shorten it down to Barny, but that wouldn’t suit you a bit. The rain’s over now. I think I’ll go down and bail out the Tortoise. Then we’ll all start. You people can be taking down the tent that’s standing, and folding up the other one.”
“Where are we going to?” said Mr. Pennefather.
“To a sanctuary,” said Miss Rutherford, “an inviolable sanctuary. Priscilla has that written down on the cover of a jam pot, so there’s no use arguing about it.”
“She says we’ll be safe,” said Lady Isabel.