Peter's Mother

by Mrs. Henry De La Pasture

"How do you do, Sir Peter?" said Sarah, in a very stately manner. "I am very glad to be here to welcome you home."

Peter, foolishly embarrassed, took the hand she offered with such gracious composure, and blushed all over his thin, tanned face.

"I—I should hardly have known you," he stammered.

"Really?" said Sarah.

"Won't you," said Peter, still looking at her, "join us on the terrace?"

"The people aren't calling for me" said Sarah.

"But it might amuse you," said Peter, deferentially.

He put up his eyeglass—but though Sarah's red lip quivered, she did not laugh.

"It's rather jolly, really," he said. "They've got banners, and flags, and processions, and things. Won't you come?"

"Well—I will," said Sarah. She accepted his help in descending the step with the air of a princess. "But they'll be so disappointed to see me instead of your mother."