"Is this your boasted self-command, Georgina?" said Lady Belstone, weeping.
"We cannot always be consistent, Isabella. It was the unexpected joy," sobbed Miss Crewys.
"Peter! your arm!" screamed Lady Belstone and she fell back almost fainting upon the sofa.
Peter stood full in the light now, and they saw that he had lost his right arm. The empty sleeve was pinned to his breast.
His aunt tottered towards him. "My poor boy!" she sobbed.
"Oh, that's all right," said Peter, in rather annoyed tones. "I can use my left hand perfectly well. I hardly notice it now."
Something in the tone of this speech caused his aunts to exclaim simultaneously—
"Dear boy, he has not changed one bit!"
"You never told us, Peter," said the canon, huskily.
"I didn't want a fuss," Peter said, very simply, "so I just got the newspaper chap to cork it down about my being shot in the arm, without any details. It had to be amputated first thing, as a matter of fact."