"Not very different," said Mhor, "but she's pretty small for a
Lady—not nearly as tall as Richard Plantagenet."
"As high as my heart," said Lord Bidborough. "The correct height, Mhor."
The vicar lunched with them at the inn. There were no speeches, and no one tried to be funny.
Jock rebuked Jean for eating too much. "It's not manners for a bride to have more than one help."
"It's odd," said Jean, "but the last time I was married the same thing happened. D'you remember Davie? You were the minister and I was the bride, and I had my pinafore buttoned down the front to look grown up, and Tommy Sprott was the bridegroom. And Great-aunt Alison let us have a cake and some shortbread, and we made strawberry wine ourselves. And at the wedding-feast Tommy Sprott suddenly pointed at me and said, 'Put that girl out; she's eating all the shortbread.' Me—his new-made bride!"
* * * * *
The whole village turned out to see the newly-married couple leave, including the blacksmith and three dogs. It hurt Mhor afresh to see the dogs barking happily while Peter, who would so have enjoyed a fight with them, was spending a boring day in the stable-yard, but Jean comforted him with the thought of Peter's delight at Mintern Abbas.
"Will Richard Plantagenet mind if he chases rabbits?"
"You won't, will you, Biddy?" Jean said.
"Not a bit. If you'll stand between me and the wrath of the keepers
Peter may do any mortal thing he likes."