Rat, tat, tat! at the red parlour door, where the McGregor family and Rory are enjoying quiet conversation. Rat, tat, tat! and enter Peter, as Rory more than once lately remarked, not looking like the same Peter at all, at all; in fact, he was now a blue Peter, for he was rigged out from top to toe in a suit of bran new pilot, cut shipshape and sailor fashion, and very gay and sprightly Peter looked.
“Well, Peter,” said Allan, “what is it? You look as if you had seen a ghost.”
“And I’m not so sure I haven’t; but pray, sir, come to the window in the staircase, and look for yourself.”
Rory and Allan both followed Peter.
“What call you that?” cried the latter, pointing to a white sail that came skimming like a sea-bird across the dark bosom of the lake.
“Why, that is the cutter?” said Allan, in amazement.
“Or her ghost,” said Peter, with a long face.
“Come on, Rory, to the creek,” cried Allan, “and we’ll meet her.”
And they were just in time to see Ralph and his father land.
“Glad to see you both at last,” said Allan; “but tell us what is the meaning of this? You went away to sell the Flower, and behold you come back in her.”