Peter grew very red. Who could have supposed that this shabby old person, whom he had endeavoured to snub, was the great Lady Tintern?
"She didn't find me," said the old lady. "I was in bed long before
Sarah came back. I presume this young gentleman escorted her home?"
"I always send a servant across for Sarah whenever she stays at all late at Barracombe, and always have," said Mrs. Hewel, in hurried self-defence. "You must remember we are old friends; there never was any formality about her visits to Barracombe."
"My guardian and I walked down to the ferry, and saw her across the river, of course," said Peter, rather sulkily.
"But her maid was with her," cried Mrs. Hewel.
"Of course," Peter said again, in tones that were none too civil.
After all, who was Lady Tintern that she should call him to task? And as if there could be any reason why her oldest playmate should not see Sarah home if he chose.
At the very bottom of Peter's heart lurked an inborn conviction that his father's son was a very much more important personage than any Hewel, or relative of Hewel, could possibly be.
"That was very kind of you and your guardian," said the old lady, suddenly becoming gracious. "Emily, I will leave you to talk to your old friend. I dare say I shall see him again at luncheon?"
"I cannot stay to luncheon. My mother is expecting me," said Peter.