They found their father rather ruefully contemplating the bacon-dish, and induced him to eat by representing Sarah’s wounded feelings should he send it out untouched.
“I suppose I’d better; but it’s too early to eat,” he said. “And later it will be too hot, so Sarah’s cookery doesn’t get a fair chance. However, I’ve a twenty-mile ride, so it really would be wiser to have something.”
“Are you going to buy sheep, Father?” Jo asked, pouring out tea.
“I believe I am. It’s a gamble, of course—but they’re very cheap, and I need not move them for a month. Your mother will tell you about it. It’s going to be a worse day than yesterday, I believe: I’m going to get back as soon as I can, and get the trip over. Take care of your mother, girls: she was awfully done yesterday.”
“We’ll take her a nice little breakfast-tray before she gets up,” Jean said. “Perhaps she may eat something if we do. I’ll make her an omelette à la Smithy.”
“Do,” he said, smiling at her. “And have one for me when I come back. I’ll need it after spending as much money as I’ve got to spend this morning!” He pushed his chair back. “Well, Cruiser’s had his feed by now, I expect: I’ll be off.”
Jean’s brow had a little furrow as she gathered up the breakfast dishes.
“Poor darling!” she said. “Jo, did you notice how grey he’s getting?”
“Do you wonder?” Jo said. “Oh, I do wish we could get a few more small boys to teach!”
It was a day of blistering heat. Lessons were voted impossible, and teachers and pupils spent the morning in the river, accompanied, for once, by Mrs. Weston, whom the twins conveyed carefully on Merrilegs. The bathe refreshed her, and afterwards she sat in the shade and laughed to watch their porpoise-like gambols at water-polo. But she was restless and uneasy, and before they were ready to come out she mounted the grey pony and rode back to the house, declaring that her stock-riding days were not so far behind her that she should need assistance now.