The gray eyes were fixed upon Gwydr. But Gwydr appeared to frown upon them.
How long Jim’s mother and Lord Cheriton sat on the round slab of slate by the marge of Lake Dwygy is not really material to this history. But the sun was drooping lower upon the left shoulder of Gwydr, and the shadows were creeping down from the formidable chasm of the Devil’s Footstool and across the black tinted water. Around a buttress of rock a punt glided into view. It was propelled by a pole and contained two persons.
The foremost of these, who stood in the bows manipulating the pole, was a blue-eyed and yellow-haired Amazon, bare-armed and bareheaded. Her cheeks were gay with color, her lips with laughter. Untrammeled freedom and the joy of living were to be discerned in every line of her ample person. Beside her was a Homburg hat with a Guards’ ribbon.
“That fellow!” said the male occupant of the slab of slate.
Clearly the apparition of the hat was not expected by the author of the exclamation. Also it was unwelcome to him if his tone and demeanor truly reflected his feelings. George came ashore, as becomes a man of nine-and-fifty, with an ample sense of responsibility. He handed Miss Perry out of the punt with an air of ceremony, and insisted upon being allowed to affix the boat to its moorings. He then proceeded to take a survey of nature in her magnificence and her immensity. Then he gazed up at the daughter of nature who appeared to be modeled on very similar lines.
“By the way,” said he, “what time is dinner?”
“It isn’t until half-past eight,” said a drawl which had a mournful music of its own. “Isn’t it late?”
“That man is a barbarian,” said a voice in the ear of Mrs. Lascelles.
“And what of the other one?” inquired she.
“She is a goddess.”