"I had forgotten it. Does my mother wish to go?"
"Madame, your mother, is already prepared. See from your window, she talks to the mail-driver, who never tires of her adorable French. Do you know, this morning he came herding down the road three shy children, who were triplets. She was charmed, having never seen more than twins."
Vesper raised himself on his elbow and glanced through the window at Monsieur de la Rive, who, with his bright wings folded close to his sides, was cheeping voluble remarks to Mrs. Nimmo.
"All right, I will go," he said.
Agapit hurried down-stairs, and Vesper began to dress himself in a leisurely way, stopping frequently to go to the window and gaze dreamily out at the Bay.
Soon Rose came to the kitchen door to feed her hens. She looked so lovely, as she stood with her resplendent head in a blaze of sunlight, that Vesper's fingers paused in the act of fastening his necktie, and he stood still to watch her.
Presently the mail-driver went streaking down the road in fiery flight, and Mrs. Nimmo, seeing Rose alone, came tripping towards her. To her son, who understood her perfectly, there were visible in Mrs. Nimmo's manner some sure and certain signs of an inward disturbance. Rose, however, perceived nothing, and continued feeding her hens with her usual grace and composure.
"Are you not going to the picnic?" asked Mrs. Nimmo, and her eye ran over the simple cotton gown that Rose always wore in the morning.
"Yes, madame, but first I do my work."