"Dear old Father!" whispered Lilian to the boys. "He gets so few chances of making a speech, and he does love it so."
"I won't detain you longer," Mr. Crawshay went on. "No doubt Mr. Pratt would like to say a few words."
"Hate it!" exclaimed Mr. Pratt. "One thing only. I've had a bad time. I deserved it. I was over-hasty. My old servants are scattered; if any of you know where they are, tell them to come to me. I'll reinstate them--if we can agree about wages."
Under cover of the villagers' applause, Percy seized the opportunity of unbosoming himself to a select audience, his companions and Lilian Crawshay.
"Are we blushing, Miss Crawshay?" he asked. "I don't think we are, because, you see, we are supremely conscious of each other's merits. We really are benefactors, you know--public and private. Who would ever believe that the two old gentlemen were not long ago calling each other luna----"
"Now, Mr. Pratt," the girl interrupted.
"Well, X and Y then," rejoined Pratt. "It's undeniable, isn't it, that they're reconciled through us? And as for my uncle and me, we're quite pally; the old feud is healed, and before long I expect my father and Uncle Ambrose will kiss again with tears. Tennyson, you know. Anyway, it's been a ripping holiday, and----"
"Now, Mr. Pratt, we are all waiting," said Mrs. Crawshay, amiably.
Pratt obediently went into the house, brought out his banjo, and trolled out ditties of the most sentimental order. Presently Warrender announced that it was time to go if they meant to reach Southampton before dark. The whole company trooped down to the bank with them, and watched them board the motor-boat, already loaded with their camp equipment. Last good-byes were said; Warrender opened the throttle; and as the boat panted down stream there came to the ears of the silent spectators the gentle strumming of the banjo, and Pratt's melodious tenor--
"Our hearts were once divided,
But now they beat as one;
The clouds roll by across the sky,
And yonder shines the sun."