But the door of the drawing-room opened ere he reached
it, and Piers came out. His dark eyes were shining. He whistled softly
as he came.
David stood respectfully on one side, and Piers passed him like a man in
a dream. He came to his grandfather, and threw himself on to the settle
by his side in silence.
"Well?" said Sir Beverley. "You took that chattering monkey back,
I suppose?"
Piers started and seemed to awake. "Oh yes, I got her safely home. We had
to dodge the Reverend Stephen. But it was all right. She and the boy got
in without being caught."
He stirred his coffee thoughtfully, and fell silent again.
"You'd better go to bed," said Sir Beverley abruptly.
Piers looked up, meeting the hard grey eyes with the memory of his dream
still lingering in his own.
Slowly the dream melted. He began to smile. "I think I'd better," he
said. "I'm infernally sleepy, and it's getting late." He drank off his
coffee and rose. "You must be pretty tired yourself, sir," he remarked.
"Time you trotted to bed too."
He moved round to the back of the settle and paused, looking down at the
thick white hair with a curious expression of hesitancy in his eyes.
"Oh, go on! Go on!" said Sir Beverley irritably. "What are you
waiting for?"
Piers stooped impulsively in response, his hand on the old man's
shoulder, and kissed him on the forehead.
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