They went down, and Peter was made acquainted with many people whose names he tried to remember. His mind was whirling with impressions, unable to settle upon anything definite till, at dinner, he had had time to recover from a sensation of being too much honoured. This sensation had invaded him at being introduced by Marbury to an exquisite young woman.
"Peter," he said, "this is my sister. Look after him, Mary, and tell him who everybody is."
Then Marbury had disappeared, leaving Peter shyly rising to her light chatter.
"The house is packed, and there are beds at the home-farm," she said as they sat to the table. "Everybody is rushing to help Antony."
"Antony?" Peter echoed in a puzzled way.
"Don't you know his name?" she asked, looking towards Marbury.
"I'm afraid not," Peter confessed.
"But he called you Peter."
"Everybody calls me Peter."
"Why does everybody do that?"