"I think you will make her very happy."
"I promise you I will do my very best."
And then Margaret came into the kitchen and knew what was toward.
She looked like a queen and a princess and a goddess all in one, with a flood of happy colour in her face and a glad glow in her eyes, and no more hint of maidenly shyness about her than was right and natural. And Miss Penny's eyes were misty of a sudden, as Graeme went quickly up to her friend, and feasted his hungry eyes on her face for a moment, and then bent and gallantly kissed her hand. For in both their faces was the great glad light that is the very light of life, and Miss Penny was wondering if, in some distant future time, it might perchance be vouchsafed to her also to attain thereto.
"I hope you both slept well," he said gaily. "I've done my best in the provisioning line. I know we've got plenty of salt, for one generally forgets it and so I always put in two packets."
"You've done splendidly," said Miss Penny, tying up tea in a piece of muslin and dropping it into the kettle.
"I'd have tried for a rabbit, but I wasn't sure if either of you could skin it—"
"Ugh! Don't mention it!"
"And I knew I couldn't, so we'll have to put up with roasted potatoes and imagine the rabbit. I've been told they do that in some parts of Ireland,—hang up a bit of bacon in a corner and point at it with the potato and so imagine the flavour."
"Potatoes are excellent faring—when there's nothing better to be had," said Miss Penny, rooting in the basket. "However, here are three of yesterday's sandwiches, slightly faded, and some biscuits—in good condition, thanks to the tin. Come, we shan't absolutely starve!"