“Then I am afraid,” said Mrs. Lascelles, with conviction, “that she is a barbarian also. I never heard of a goddess who wasn’t.”
It appeared there were things in the punt. Notably, a rod and tackle and a basket containing a very tolerable capture of trout.
“What beauties!” said Miss Perry, as she came ashore with the basket. “If I run with them straight to the cook, perhaps we might have some for dinner.”
Miss Perry, who was surprisingly fleet of foot, was proceeding to put this design into execution when she came full upon Mrs. Lascelles and Lord Cheriton. The unexpected presence of the latter appeared to afford her great pleasure.
“It is so nice that you have come,” said she, with slow breathlessness. “Muffin is here. Have you seen her? Isn’t she a sweet? And aren’t these trout beauties? Gobo caught seven and I caught two. I will just run with them to the cook, and then I will find Muffin.”
Before Cheriton could find an opportunity to reply fittingly, Miss Perry passed on to Pen-y-Gros Castle in the manner of a heavy-footed yet distinctly fast-moving whirlwind.
“The ridiculous creature,” said Jim’s mother, with a laugh.
“It seems to me,” said Cheriton, “that our wonderful Miss Perry develops now she is in her native element.”
George Betterton, having moored the punt, came up along the pebbles. He carried the rod and tackle. His tread was heavy, and, owing to his recent exertions, he was blowing like a grampus. He seemed to accept the presence of Cheriton as a natural corollary. They greeted one another with the reserve which among their countrymen is held to be the guarantee of a genuine character.
“Fine evenin’,” said George.