"I trust," said Miss Crewys, "that we are not a family prone to display weak emotion even on the most trying occasions."
"To be sure not," said the canon, disconcerted; "still, I cannot think of it myself without a little—a great deal—of thankfulness for his preservation through this terrible war, now so happily ended. And to think the boy should have earned so much distinction for himself, and behaved so gallantly. God bless the lad! You are well aware," said the canon, blowing his nose, "that I have always been fond of Peter."
"Thank you, canon," said Peter.
For a moment no one was sure that it was Peter, who had come so quietly round the great screen and into the hall, though he stood somewhat in the shadow still.
A young man, looking older than his age, and several inches taller than Peter had been when he went away; a young man deeply tanned, and very wiry and thin in figure; with a brown, narrow face, a dark streak of moustache, a long nose, and a pair of grey eyes rendered unfamiliar by an eyeglass, which was an ornament Peter had not worn before his departure.
The old ladies sat motionless, trembling with the shock; but the canon seized the hand which Peter held out, and, scarcely noticing that it was his left hand, shook it almost madly in both his own.
"Peter! good heavens, Peter!" he cried, and the tears ran unheeded down his plump, rosy cheeks. "Peter, my boy, God bless you! Welcome home a thousand thousand times!"
"Peter!" gasped Lady Belstone. "Is it possible?"
"Why, he's grown into a man," said Miss Crewys, showing symptoms of an inclination to become hysterical.
Peter was aghast at the commotion, and came hurriedly forward to soothe his agitated relatives.