They returned from their expedition at eight. Avery was walking to and
fro by the gate in a ferment of anxiety. They came by the cliff-road,
and she went eagerly to meet them.
Jeanie was hanging on her father's arm with a face of deathly whiteness,
and looked on the verge of collapse.
The Reverend Stephen was serenely satisfied with himself, laughed gently
at his child's dragging progress, and assured Avery that a little
wholesome fatigue was a good thing at the end of the day.
Jeanie said nothing. She seemed to be speechless with exhaustion, almost
incapable of standing alone.
Mr. Lorimer recommended a cold bath, a brisk rub-down, and supper.
"After which," he said impressively, "I shall hope to conduct a few
prayers before we retire to rest."
"That will be impossible, I am afraid," Avery rejoined. "Jeanie is
overtired and must go at once to bed."
She spoke with quiet decision, but inwardly she was quivering with fierce
anger. She longed passionately to have the child to herself, to comfort
and care for her and ease away the troubles of the day.
But Mr. Lorimer at once asserted his authority. "Jeanie will certainly
join us at supper," he said. "Run along, my child, and prepare for the
meal at once!"
Jeanie went up the stairs like an old woman, stumbling at every step.
Avery followed her, chafing but impotent.
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